


Jon Snow The Literal Fire-Breathing Dragon

by umbrakinetic



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Jon Snow, Dorne, Dragons, Dragons are Overpowered, F/M, Human Sacrifice, Jon Snow is King in the North, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Magic always has a price, Politics, R Plus L Equals J, Resurrected Jon Snow, The Faceless Men, The House of Black and White, The Lord of Light, Very short-term Daenerys/Daario, Warg Jon Snow, Wargs (ASoIaF), the Many-Faced God - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:26:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 31
Words: 359,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23767666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umbrakinetic/pseuds/umbrakinetic
Summary: Jon Snow was dead, betrayed by his own brothers. Ghost had tried to avenge him but was eventually taken down by the same men. Wargs don't truly die however so Jon finds himself reincarnated in the body of the animal he has the next closest connection to, a dragon he's never met. Specifically Daenerys's dragon, Rhaegal. RLJ
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen (mentioned), Myrcella Baratheon/Trystane Martell, Sansa Stark/Petyr Baelish (one sided)
Comments: 559
Kudos: 567





	1. Jon I

**Author's Note:**

> In spite of what the summary might suggest this is largely not a humor based or parody work. This is an extremely complex nuanced plot, and the story will have dark themes and undertones that are not for the lighthearted. This story like the books will shift perspectives every chapter, although the majority of the chapters will be told from Jon or Daenerys's perspective. For the most part this follows the show cannon for events leading up to Jon's death but there are a few exceptions that will be revealed as the story progresses. This story despite being built around the show and the events of it, follows much of the lore established in the book series (mostly around wargs) and will borrow elements of the books that never appeared in the show. There are also some cannon things that happen before the story starts that will be modified, it that offends you then you are not required to read it. Updates will be every Friday. 
> 
> The first four chapters are completely awful plot-wise but it does get better. I am currently looking for a beta reader.
> 
> Warning: This story will contain incest, graphic violence, non-explicit rape, non-explicit underage sex, and probably some explicit (Non-underaged) sexual content. It is Game of Thrones I don't know what else you expected. Characters in this story will be racist, sexist, and homophobic at times. This is in no way reflectory of my views.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones, A Song of Ice and Fire or any of their associated properties. This is a work of fiction purely for my own enjoyment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This story like the books will shift perspectives every chapter, although the majority of the chapters will be told from Jon or Daenerys's perspective. For the most part, this follows the show cannon for events leading up to Jon's death but there are a few exceptions that will be revealed as the story progresses. This story despite being built around the show and the events of it, follows much of the lore established in the book series (mostly around wargs) and will borrow elements of the books that never appeared in the show. I have already rewritten the first ~30K Words or so and chapter-length will progress as the story does. The plan is to update this weekly but we'll see how things go and where we're at once the Stay at Home Order is lifted.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones, A Song of Ice and Fire or any of their associated properties. This is a work of fiction purely for my own enjoyment.

Jon sighed. He had no idea how they were going to defeat the Others and their army of the dead. They had one hundred thousand wildlings at Hardhome and while maybe most of them weren't fighters, they had been helpless to do anything against them, only one Other had died. The only things that could destroy them were Dragon Glass which no one knew where to find and Valyrian Steel, the rarest metal on the planet. Fire at least stopped the wights but that wasn't a practical solution, it was too difficult to control and killed as many of their men as the wights as it needed to be used in large quantities not just a flaming arrow to actually stop them. ***1**

The watch, even with the help of the wildlings was still not at all equipped to handle the numbers of the dead army, even if they all had Valyrian Steel weapons. Stannis had come last time he had asked the five kings for help, but Stannis was dead now, at the hands of the Bolton's.

Jon sighed again. He knew he would have to ask the Bolton's for help as much as it pained him to do so. Maybe King Tommen would be more likely to heed his request then Joffrey. He hated them both for what they had done to his family but the Night's Watch took no part in the wars of men and they needed the help too much to be picky. Even if both of them sent men it still probably wouldn't be enough. The army that had attacked Hardhome had been probably close to 100,000 and they had almost doubled their forces there. ***2**

Jon picked up his quill and grabbed a piece of parchment, beginning to pen a letter.

_Lord Roose Bolton,_

_The Night's Watch have come to ask the Warden of the Nort_

The quill tip broke off, an inky splotch blotting out the most of the message. Jon knew he had to ask Roose Bolton for help but that didn't mean it was easy to call him by his Lord Father's title, still, formalities had to be observed. He rubbed his brow and reached for another quill to begin again.

_Lord Roose Bolton,_

_The Night's Watch have come to ask the Warden of the North for aid. The Others are very much real and marching on the wall with an army of the dead, we know they have at least 100,000 wights in their army for sure; including undead Giants, Mammoths, and Ice Spiders. They likely have more than that, that is only what we have seen from them. In this time of crisis, we need all the help we can get. We need all able-bodied men and women-_

Another quill snapped and Jon groaned. They needed the help even if it hurt him to ask his brother's murderer and sister's rapist for it. He crumpled up the piece of parchment and tossed it across the room.

The door to his office was thrown open, slamming into the wall with enough force that the door would have closed itself if Olly wasn't standing there.

"It's one of the wildlings you brought back. Says he knows your Uncle Benjen. Says he's still alive." Olly explained excitedly.

Jon shot to his feet, he had long since given up hope that Benjen was alive. "You're sure he's talking about Benjen?"

Olly nodded rapidly, his hands twitching with excitement. "Said he was First Ranger."

Jon nodded briefly and rushed out the door with Olly sprinting ahead of him. He descended the stairs into the courtyard faster than ever before. His Uncle Benjen had always treated him as well as any of the trueborn Stark children. He had been why Jon joined the Night's Watch.

Ser Alliser Thorne was waiting at the footstep of the stairs for them. "Man says he saw your uncle at Hardhome last full moon." He said in place of a greeting.

Jon tried to temper his excitement as they walked together to the corner of the yard where a bunch of men in Night's Watch black were clustered around who Jon assumed was the person who spotted his Uncle Benjen. He estimated there was around 30 people there, a combination of men of all orders. "Could by lying," Jon muttered.

"Could be," Alliser agreed. "Or maybe he is mistaken. There are ways to find out."

"Where is he?"

Alliser jerked his head to the crowd confirming his suspicions. "Over there."

Jon pushed through the crowd to where he expected the wildling to be. There was no one there. He looked around wondering where he might have gone. Written on the wall was one word in the Night's Watch's signature black ink, TRAITOR. Jon turned around in confusion to see Ser Alliser standing a step ahead of the rest of the crowd.

"For the Watch."

Realization dawned on Jon at about the same time the first knife, this one from Ser Alliser found his stomach. This was why Olly had been so excited.

"For the Watch."

Another knife hit his abdomen, Bowen Marsh he dimly recognized. The lie hadn't even been believable, Olly wouldn't have talked to the wildlings voluntarily and why would they know he was the First Ranger?

"For the Watch."

The third knife punctured one of his lungs, Othyll Yarwyn, it was hard to tell at this point, his vision blurred as it was from the blood loss. His fingers grabbed at longclaw in its scabbard on his hip but he didn't have the strength to draw it.

"For the Watch."

Jon fell to his knees as the knife just barely missed his heart, low and to the right by a few inches. This was how he was going to die? Betrayed by his own men, his sworn brothers for saving innocent lives and recruiting wildlings to his ranks? He should have listened to Stannis and sent Ser Alliser to a different castle on the wall.

Olly stood in front of him with tears in his eyes and fierce determination to do what he thought was right.

"For the Watch." Olly said plunging his dagger into John's heart. He twisted the blade and Jon knew no more. ***3**

Packmate slumped to the ground and Jon could only watch as the light left his eyes.

Jon leaped out of the shadows and snarled going for the fat greasy-haired older man who had stabbed packmate. His teeth locked around his throat before he could even turn around. The man was dead before he hit the ground. Whittlestick packmate had called him.

They had killed packmate, they would die.

All the men in the crowd drew their metal sticks as Jon leaped into action. He ignored most of them only focusing on the ones who had killed packmate. He lunged at the smallest boy who packmate had trusted, the one who had betrayed him.

A metal stick plunged into his hind leg and he whimpered. Another metal stick caught his back. His jaws locked around the leg of the small one who screamed in pain as he tore off the foot. He dove back in again on the boy now lying on the ground, his face was wet with water. He tore the throat out and stopped his noise as a metal stick stabbed into one of his front paws.

Jon dashed as quickly as he could towards the one packmate had called thorn. He leaped off his hind legs ignoring the pain it caused with his claws outstretched and his teeth bared.

The man took a step back and thrust upwards with his sword into Jon's stomach. Jon fought with his paws as he hung on that sword and bashed the man in the head. Another metal stick hit his back as he fought to get the one called thorn. Blood ran down thorn's face as he pulled out the same knife he had used on his packmate and thrust it into Jon's eye.

Jon fell to the ground, feeling the cold embrace of the snow that was now washed red with blood and could do nothing but whimper next to his packmate as he watched his murderers walk off.

Jon was in the dark. It was quiet besides the sound of the dripping water from overhead. Was this death? Eternal darkness with nothing but his own thoughts to occupy him. Surely it was, his brothers had killed him. It was hot too, hotter than Jon had ever been in his life, but it didn't hurt or even feel at all unpleasant.

No not brothers- he only had two siblings. Wait, that was wrong Jon had three brothers and two sisters and all his brothers were dead. For the Watch, Jon wasn't sure what that meant anymore but they had said that when they killed him.

Or was it the men with metal sticks who had killed him? He had killed two of them to avenge packmate but then the thorny one got him.

Jon roared in anger. There was a bright light almost instantly, a fire coming from his mouth but it did not burn. In the light he had breathed, he saw where he was. He was in a cave, with a large stone rolled in front of the entrance. Besides him, there was a magnificent giant lizard.

The creature was bone white, a sharp contrast to the darkness that surrounded them. The creature had long thick horns that were golden in color and curled slightly on the end and it had a long tail with a black spike on the end. It was gaunt, clearly being starved and he could see all its golden bones, including the ones on its wings.

Wait, wings? Dragon! His mind screamed and Jon scampered away from it.

Or he tried too but a sharp pulling on the chain around his neck stopped him from running away. Jon was going to die again, he was trapped with a dragon.

He sat in the quiet awaiting the end but the dragon did not attack him. Brother, his mind said of the dragon. Viserion it was called Jon knew somehow.

Jon snorted, he was imagining things he didn't know any dragons. At his snort yellow flames spewed in front of his face illuminating his snout to him.

Was he a dragon? The thought sounded ludicrous, those were only rumors and there were only three in the whole world, and all of them were in Essos with Daenerys Targaryen.

At the thought of her name, his body whispered mother to him. She had betrayed Jon and locked him up in the dark, put a chain around his neck. She hadn't visited for at least a week, instead sending her servants to bring him and his brother food.

Oh fuck. Jon was actually a dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *1 The idea that a flaming arrow was enough to kill a wight never sat with me so in this it's not. To kill one with fire it can't just be nicked but actually killed by it like it would take of a normal person to die from fire. A burn on the hand won't kill them nor will brief contact with their head or heart or whatever, it's not Kryptonite. Also, I'm calling the White Walker by the only name they are referred to by in the books, the Others and the Night King is supposedly The Great Other (Or is it the Three-Eyed Raven?). White Walker sounds too much like the walking dead and The Others sounds more ominous to me at least.
> 
> *2 The fact that the army of the Others was listed as 100,000 at Hardhome and then they only managed to save 10,000 of the reported 100,000 at Hardhome would suggest that the 100,000 figure listed in season seven is not actually their full force since they should have at bare minimum 200,000. If the Wildlings were really as numerous as they are listed at Hardhome and if the Great Other brought back all of the dead north of The Wall then his army should be in at least the millions possibly even billions.
> 
> *3 In the show Jon has seven scars that don't look like they ever healed presumably from this attack despite him only being stabbed five times and hanging five people for his murder, in this, it's only five like they showed not the seven he has scars from. 
> 
> Please read and review.


	2. Jon II

Jon roared as he flew through the open skies shooting off a burst of flames up above him, he was finally free! Flying was incredible, nothing could ever compare to the experience and it almost made his death worth it. ***1** His heart felt like it would burst through his chest as he soared above the world. He did corkscrews and loop de loops roaring with glee. All of the worries and anguish he had experienced in the cave were gone now that he was free. 

Looking down on the world from hundreds of feet in the sky was awesome. The great pyramids of whatever city lied down below looked as small as a mouse from his vantage point. He could see the kids in the streets playing with their dolls of his mother, and him and his siblings. They would spot him and jump up and point. Some kids ran in terror, more adults ran in terror. Others would dance around and celebrate when they spotted him. They spoke in a foreign tongue that Jon did not understand but even hundreds of feet up in the air he could see and hear them with incredible precision. 

For what felt like forever but was really probably only two or so days. Jon was brought five meals in that cave so he could estimate that it was only two- maybe three days that he was imprisoned but it could have even been five. He had quickly learned that dragons had peculiar tastes, his food tasted awful if he didn’t burn it to a charred husk that would look unedible to any human. He would eat his blackened and crispy meal and go back to trying to escape. That had been his daily routine while he was trapped. 

Jon when realizing that he was shackled had been so determined to use his human mind to escape. He had tried to slip loose of his collar but it was too tight and steel was unyielding to his movements. He had tried to pull the pin that held the collar around his neck but he didn’t have the needed precision to pull it out with his tail despite spending at least one hundred attempts doing so. He had just needed to stop thinking like a human and trying to escape as a human would and remember that he was a dragon now. ***2**

He had tried the obvious solution of biting down on his collar almost immediately, his teeth were strong- stronger than steel even but not enough that he could bite through castle forged steel. His jaws didn’t have the strength to rip through the material. ***3** He was a dragon not just a giant lizard but a Fire-Breathing Dragon! It had been all too simple to burn the collar to the point where his teeth could break through it easily enough. Perhaps he could have burnt it into nothingness and might have tried it next but he didn’t want to risk the cave collapsing from the intense heat destroying its foundations. ***4** There were some bits of steel that had hardened to his teeth but it was more than worth it to be free. 

He had tried to free Viserion once he was free but when Jon had spat fire at him he had hissed and slunk as far away as he could get. When he had done so again, Viserion had spat his own fire at him and refused to let Jon get close enough to free him. So he had reluctantly left his brother behind in the cave. Once he found a trustworthy human, he would return to have them free Rhaegal. Perhaps he could find Sam on his way back to the wall, he might be the only person Jon trusted right now. 

Jon hated the Night’s Watch right now, they had betrayed him and murdered Ghost but he still had to return. Winter was coming and the army of the dead with it, Jon wasn’t selfish enough to let thousands or potentially even millions die for his own pride. They needed Dragons at The Wall to have a chance of survival and as one of the only three dragons in existence, he had to swallow his pride for the good of the many. He wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t his father.

Jon had always prided himself on his observational skills and deductive reasoning. He was a dragon now, it was highly likely that he had some blood tie to the Targaryen’s. He doubted the honorable Ned Stark would sleep with a Targaryen, the thought of him cheating on his wife at all was insane, let alone with a Targaryen when he was waging war on the Targaryen’s and trying to overthrow The Mad King. The logical conclusion for why he would claim a Targaryen as his own was pretty simple, he was the son of Eddard’s sister Lyanna. ***5**

The same Lyanna his presumptive father, Rhaegar Targaryen had kidnapped and raped. The one who the Starks had fought a war to get back from his father. The one who had started a war because he couldn’t control his lust and had decided he needed to have Lyanna. His father had lead to thousands of needless deaths and toppled a dynasty because he wanted a woman he couldn’t have. Maester Aemon’s wise words rang forever true. 

_ “Love is the bane of honor, the death of duty. What is honor compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms ... or the memory of a brother's smile? Wind and words. Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy. Sooner or later, in every man’s life, there comes a day when it is not easy. A day when he must choose.”  _

His father had chosen wrong, he had chosen his own self-interests over his duty to the realm as crown prince and it had cost him everything. Jon would not repeat his mistake, he would prioritize the greater good over his own pride. If there was any doubt left in his mind over who his parents were it was erased when he discovered the name of the dragon he shared a body with, Rhaegal. He was named after his father cause of course he was. 

Jon’s connection to Rhaegal was different for lack of a better term from his relationship he used to share with Ghost. The dragon’s mind was much different from that of his direwolf. He was both smarter and more animalistic. He wanted to fly over to Castle Black and eat the traitors who had killed him and Ghost. Tear, burn and kill were his three most primary instincts that drove him, but he could resist them for the most part, he wasn’t a slave to the dragon’s whims. He couldn’t do something that the Dragon didn’t want to do at all but as long as their desires were somewhat aligned he had complete freedom. As a dragon he wanted to rule, he liked seeing below him and was extremely prideful. Jon had been the opposite but Jon had been a human and Jon had died. The dragon wanted attention and men to grovel, it was the nature of being a dragon. There was a reason Targaryens became kings, they were dragons, not wolves content to lay low and protect the pack. 

He was Ghost when he was Ghost, he thought like Ghost, he wanted what Ghost did, he was still Jon then but he was more Ghost then Jon. Ghost was his best friend, not his other half like Rhaegal was. He never was truly Ghost, more so just a passenger tailing along for the ride and seeing through Ghost’s eyes. As Rhaegal he was not Rhaegal, he was Jon and Rhaegal. He had more individuality, he was two separate people working in symbiosis. He still had his individuality and thought like a human while he wielded the power of a dragon and that was a combination that could maybe stop the Long Night. 

Jon had chosen to fly north once he was free, he would either hit the wall if he was in Westeros or if he was in Essos then he would find the Shivering Sea and know to turn west. He was fairly certain he was in Westeros but it would be better to head North first anyways, that way he wouldn’t get lost. He knew the lands of the North, he didn’t know the lands of the south and if he went west first he would not know when he was no longer in Essos and might overshoot. Not to mention, he really didn’t want the Lannisters knowing that there was a dragon in Westeros. 

Jon almost fell out of the sky as a wave of terror gripped him. Why was he scared? He was not in any danger, he was alone in the skies. No, it wasn’t his fear he was feeling,  _ it was his mothers.  _ He was furious with her for having locked him up and if it was just Rhaegal here he probably would have ignored her. He was not just Rhaegal here though, Jon Snow wouldn’t leave anyone to die when he could easily stop it and his mother was not just anyone. He was angry with her but Rhaegal still cared about her. ***6**

It was instinctive as he dove down into the sea of green grass, somehow knowing exactly where she was. He knew she was in danger and could feel her fear and simply followed that feeling to where she was. 

As he got lower he could see why she was afraid. There was a man on top of a horse looming large over her naked form. She didn’t look afraid though and if Jon hadn’t been able to feel her fear he would never have believed she was afraid. She stood firm and almost looked in control of the situation as she stared down the man on the horse. 

“Drogon.” He heard her whisper as she caught sight of him. Jon was annoyed that she had called him by his sister’s name but still she didn’t know he was free now. 

Details were becoming clearer now as he got closer. His mother was hurt, there were red bumps all over her arms and legs and her thighs were sticky with blood. Her hair was a mess of knots, tangled, and frizzy. Her usually pale skin was an ugly gray due to the ashes and dirt she was covered in. The man on the horse had dismounted. He had long black hair, in a braid. He was holding a blade in his hand, curved in a C shape, an arakh Jon believed it was called. They were a much more popular blade in Essos than Westeros where the knights favored a more traditional sword. 

He landed with a mighty roar and spewed fire on the man who had dared to get near his mother. He did not scream as he died, it was over before he could, his flames leaving the man a shriveled husk on the ground. Completely devoid of any resemblance to a human. 

He looked at his mother- really looked at her for the first time. Even in her sorry state, she was the most beautiful person Jon had ever seen. Her eyes almost glowed purple, her pale blonde- almost white hair was covered in dirt and grime making it look almost a brown color, it was a tangled mess with tufts of hair sticking up everywhere but it still entranced him. Her figure was very curvy, her body the envy of every woman and the desire of every man. 

“Rhaegal?” His mother whispered, obviously confused. “How? I-I.” Her voice was cracked, weak, and low due to her obvious thirst. 

Jon ignored her for a moment as he ripped the head off the man’s horse that was trying to escape and swallowed it, burning it well it was in his mouth. He had not made any stops in his flight to The Wall before now and was getting hungry. 

His mother crawled over to the horse’s carcass and dug her hand into the headless hole of its neck that he had ripped open with his teeth. She brought her shaking hand, covered in horse meat into her mouth, and licked herself clean. Jon wondered when she had last eaten, she was clearly starving. 

Jon knew from when he was a human that raw meat could kill them and he didn’t want his mother dead despite her cruelty to him earlier. Besides Jon was hungry and needed the food too. So Jon snarled and pulled the carcass away from her with his snout. This was his meal not hers, she could have it when he was done with it.

His mother whimpered a soft whiny noise that might have been inaudible to a human. She was thin- perhaps unnaturally so, he could see her ribs and Jon wondered when she had last eaten. Perhaps, Jon didn’t need the food, at the very least, she needed to eat more then he did. Still, raw meat, was bad for a human so he couldn't let her eat it. He breathed fire on the carcass for only a split second, a short burst of a light flame to only cook it a little, he doubted that she wanted meat that was as black as Drogon’s scales. He had overdone it, the horse was almost entirely black and crispy although there were a few spots on the feet that looked that would maybe be considered edible to a human’s taste. He shoved the horse back towards his mother and looked at her, trying to convey it was for her. 

She looked at him with the beginning of tears in the corner of her eyes. “Y-You cooked it for me?” She asked puzzled, her voice hoarse and quiet enough that human ears probably wouldn’t have detected them. 

Jon nodded and she laughed, it probably did look a bit comical to see a dragon nod. 

She said something in a foreign dialect he couldn't understand but he could feel her gratitude rolling off her. She broke off one of the horse’s legs that was one of the least burnt pieces of meat. He watched as she scarfed it down all manners completely lost in her need to eat. Not very Queenly, Jon thought to himself as he admired her ravenous eating habits. She finished that piece far faster then he had thought possible and gave a big smile, chunks of black meat still stuck to her white teeth. His heart fluttered and Jon knew if he was still human her smile have made his blood go south. 

Jon still wanted to eat, maybe mother would leave him some of the horse but with how quickly she scarfed down her first portion of the horse, he wasn’t sure there would be enough leftovers for him. The smell of the burnt flesh drew him in, he had killed a man to save mother and he looked like a large enough meal. The human part of Jon was reviled by the idea of eating his own kind but he was a dragon now, not a human anymore. So with only a moment of hesitation, he tore off the man’s blackened arm and swallowed it whole. 

That first arm was somewhat bitter, part of him wanted to vomit it back up but he forced himself to keep it down. That was just the human part of him not being comfortable eating his own kind, the taboo of cannibalism speaking. So he took another bite, this time a leg. Why did he ever think it was bitter? This was as sweet as honey, sweeter even. Human flesh was delicious. He still preferred a good sheep, pig, or even a horse, simply because it didn’t carry the taboo that his human mind despised but humans tasted good. He consumed the rest of his meal with an eagerness that wasn’t present before, leaving behind only a few blackened bones that he hadn’t bothered to incinerate with his meal. 

He wouldn’t needlessly burn humans to eat them, he still cared about them living but when there was a dead human why should he stop himself from eating them? They were food, he was no human anymore. He was a dragon now and dragons don’t bow to anything, be it social taboos or the commands of men. 

He roared triumphantly as his mother clambered onto his back. “Take me home, Rhaegal.” She muttered into his neck. “Soves.” 

Jon did not know what that word meant, but Rhaegal did. Soves meant to fly so he took to the sky with a flap of his wings, leaving the half-eaten remains of the charred horse and the man’s blackened bones behind him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *1 Daenerys literally says in the books when she first rides on Drogon that if she falls it would still be worth it to fly and when she's starving and dying in the desert that she would still ride on Drogon knowing where it put her. Clearly flying is incredible and while Jon isn't Daenerys and he actually died it's still not a stretch for him to share a similar sentiment. 
> 
> *2 In the original draft of this chapter I had an overly complicated scene of him trying to pull out a child lock safety pin kind of collar with his tale and wasting a ton of time trying to finest it until I did some research and found out just how stupidly overpowered Dragons are in Game of Thrones.
> 
> *3 “Dragonbone is black because of its high iron content. It is as strong as steel, yet lighter and far more flexible, and of course utterly impervious to fire.” - AGOT Tyrion II. The teeth are the strongest part of the body in most animals meaning if the same is true for dragons (Which it almost has to be with the fire it constantly comes into contact with) then his teeth are probably stronger than steel. 
> 
> 4* In the show we see Drogon turn humans in full suits of armor into dust in the blink of an eye during the supply train battle mess. The only recorded instance of a human being vaporized that quickly was at ground zero in Hiroshima where the temperatures reached 10,000 degrees Fahrenheit. Scientists have estimated that theoretically it could be done at as low as 6500 degrees Fahrenheit but that is solely theoretical. At Hiroshima the men vaporized weren't wearing full suits of armor. Iron doesn't even reach a gaseous state until it heats to 5180 degrees Fahrenheit so Drogon's flames are at least that hot if not twice that.
> 
> Yes, that is as hot as the surface of the sun but it wouldn't destroy the earth or even have that much of an effect on the area around the flames as the size of the flames is minuscule in comparison which is more important than raw temperature when looking at the damage caused. Lightning is hotter than the sun but the earth still stands today because of size.
> 
> As a slightly off-topic note, Drogon burning people alive being considered inhumane is laughable. The person subjected to his flames would be dead before their body even feels the pain, it might be the best way to be executed- certainly less painful than a beheading or hanging. Daenerys burning people alive with Drogon did not show she was going mad or reveled in others suffering, if anything it was the opposite. 
> 
> *5 This will be a common theme in this story, people will be capable of being logical and having sound deductive reasoning. If Jon becomes a dragon his first assumption will be that he's related to the family of dragons. Rather than think that his mother must be a dragon- that somehow had an affair with Ned Stark that no one knew about, he is smart enough to realize that Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark, the relationship everyone knew about is the likely parents. He will not be the only person to draw this perfectly reasonable conclusion.
> 
> *6 There is definitely some empathetical link between Dany and her dragons considering how conveniently they show up when she needs them and how Drogon immediately knows when she dies. It's very simplistic but there is some sort of magical homing in there. 
> 
> I made some edits to the first chapter as well to try to more realistically convey how easily Ghost went down to the Watch, sheer numbers left him hopeless basically. 
> 
> Next chapter is the first one from Daenerys's point of view.  
> Please Read and Review


	3. Daenerys I

Daenerys clung tight to Rhaegals neck as they soared through the sky. Her grip was weak but she clung on as tightly as she could to his bronze-colored spinal ridge. Her legs were locked around his neck to keep her from falling off. 

Rhaegal was flying slowly making it easier to keep her grip, he knew his mother was in pain she thought with pride. Internally she wondered why Rhaegal had been the one to come, she was closest to Drogon even if he was a bit unruly oftentimes. But Drogon had left her there in the heat of the sun to starve. Rhaegal had come for her, and even cooked her food for her. He gave her the horse meat and waited for her to finish before leaving _with her._ She had needed the whip to ride Drogon but Rhaegal had bowed to her commands without hesitation. She had ridden him with just her voice to command him. 

Everything Daenerys had ever read had said that Dragons only had one rider, they would bond with one person- yet she had ridden two of her dragons. It was most peculiar, but she was the Mother of Dragons, it was only natural that she would be the first to bond to two dragons after all.

This dragon ride didn’t have the same thrill that riding on Drogon had for her, it was enjoyable but it was hard to enjoy it the same as she did when she wasn’t starving and dying of thirst. Still, there was nothing like the feeling of looking down on the world from atop a dragon. The heat had long since gotten to be too much spending so much time outdoors, so long on her own in the wild so the dragon’s superheated scales were rather than being comforting, almost painful. 

She had been out in the wild for almost a fortnight and Daenerys was sure she was going to die before the Dothraki scout showed up, be it by starvation, heatstroke or wild animal. Then she had thought she would be raped and killed. Best case scenario, she would live out the rest of her days among the Dosh Khaleen with all the other Khaleesi of the dead Khals. She knew her time as Queen of Meereen was coming to an end, she knew that she would never return to Westeros. 

But then out of nowhere Rhaegal had shown up and killed the Dothraki scout. At first, when he had roared she had thought he would kill her too. She had chained him, he was right to be angry but instead, he had given the horse to her and even had tried to cook it well for her, the meat was tough and crispy, definitely overcooked but still it had been wonderful and it wasn’t completely black like everything the dragons usually eat, like what she had salvaged from Drogons leftovers. He had waited for her to finish eating before letting her on his back and then finally flying. His behavior was odd, she had no clue her dragons were so intelligent.

Rhaegal was descending for some reason, despite them still being in the Dothraki sea. “Higher.” She urged. “Meereen.” She begged but he would not listen. They were descending at a very gradual pace as if he was afraid she would slide off. 

He landed with a swoosh of his wings as he lowered his back, pressing his neck to the ground so he layed flat so she could slide off. Daenerys was scared that like Drogon he would leave her in the middle of nowhere but she obliged his request. _You can not tame a dragon_ Daenerys knew. She had been told it her entire life by Viserys and had repeated it to herself when she had chained Rhaegal and Viserion, to convince herself it was the right thing to do. 

So she dismounted and took a look around. There were a few trees here and there, not very large ones but a few palm trees that provided some semblance of shade. She walked over to one, half staggered, desperate to get some measure of coolness. She tripped over a stump and crawled the rest of the way to the shade. 

  
The slight relief from the extreme heat would never be enough but it was certainly an improvement from the open sky. So she laid there on her face until she felt Rhaegal prodding her butt with his snout the warmth scorching her out of her relaxed state. 

She rolled over and glared at the dragon that was hovering over her stomach. “Go away” she mumbled. “To warm,” she complained.

Rhaegal jerked his head at her and then to the left. She rolled back over ignoring him. He prodded her back with his snout again until she rolled over. “What do you want.” She murmured, probably completely incoherent by this point.   
  
Rhaegal once again jerked his head to the left of him. Was he trying to get her to look over there? Surely not, dragons weren’t intelligent enough to play gestures. Still, she humored him and looked to her left. 

A gasp left her mouth at the sight of the pond he was guarding and she was sure she was hallucinating. _Water._ Actual freshwater, it had been too long since she had last quenched her thirst. She dragged her broken body towards the pond and plunged her face into it, lapping at the water like a dog. 

The water was a balm to her soul and she felt some of her strength return to her. The water was a bit dirty, specs of dirt and grass in it but Daenerys didn’t care as she drank it up. It could have been green and covered in beetles and she still would have drunk it without hesitation, thinking it was better than the sweetest wine.

She heard Rhaegal shuffle and looked up in fear that he was leaving only to find him lifting his wing to give her shade as she drank the cold water from the pond. He was so sweet and caring now, it was odd, undragonlike of him, almost a human action. 

She looked at her arms covered in soot and mud, she was filthy. She had twigs in her hair and horse meat under her fingernails. She needed a bath. She lowered herself into the water, even if it was dirty she would at least be cleaner then she was, not so caked in filth when she returned to Meereen. 

Rhaegal’s eyes stared at her as she lowered herself into the water slowly and she knew he wouldn’t leave her. The water was cold on her skin, a very pleasant feeling in the blistering heat of the summer. She rubbed at her skin until it started to peel, blood and dirt coming off with it. Rhaegal’s glowing bronze eyes following her the entire time. Her skin was raw in the wake, a bite of pain came with a strong breeze. She lathered her hair with water, pulling her hands through her hair to try to brush it with her fingers. The white was returning to her hair now that it was somewhat clean, no longer that ugly dirty darker blonde it had been. 

She wasn’t sure how long she spent relaxing in the cool water, she had lingered in it long past the time needed to get clean- well as clean as she would be getting in the wilderness. She had spent most of that time staring into Rhaegal’s magnificent bronze eyes. 

There was an intelligence there she hadn’t seen before with him or any of his brothers. She knew he somehow understood her and wouldn’t leave her. So she had told him stories, confessed her concerns to him, she was his mother so she treated him as her child, a human child almost. She had stroked his snout and he nuzzled her hand every time she did. He was oddly affectionate and Daenerys couldn’t help but wonder if captivity had somehow tamed him. She hated herself for being grateful if it had. 

He seemed to be listening intently to every story she had told him. Her freeing of the Unsullied in Astapor, Her escape from the warlocks in Qarth and how she had locked Xharo in his empty vault, how the slaves had freed themselves in Meereen and how she had taken the city. She told him of her life before she had been sold to Khal Drogo, how she still considered the red door with a lemon tree in Bravos her real home. She also told him of her failures in Meereen how she didn’t know what to do to stop the Harpies, how her city was falling apart and how she was trying to be merciful but the dragon demanded fire and blood. She told him of all her worries, talking with him until the sun had fallen and the cool night air had finally gotten her out of the water. 

She wasn’t sure why she was talking to him about everything, maybe just having someone to speak to and listen to her concerns. Someone she could trust wouldn’t betray her, it’s not like Rhaegal could share her fears with anyone. They were in the middle of nowhere and no one could overhear her speaking to him so it was oddly therapeutic to talk out her concerns for once. The stress of the last week on her own had caused her to just let it out where she knew she was safe. 

She leaned against Rhaegal’s body now, in between his legs and where his wings came out from his body. The heat from her skin touching his scales kept her warm and Rhaegal tucked his wing over her body, the soft leathery skin serving as a blanket, his wingbone resting just under her neck, on the collarbone. It was very odd but Daenerys was glad he was behaving this way. At least one of her children was not tame- that wasn’t the right word. Rhaegal was just different- not as willful as his brothers and it was a bit odd considering Rhaegal had once been the most spirited one, captivity had changed him she knew. She wondered if Viserion would behave like this too when they returned to Meereen.

She sighed in contentment with the warmth and comfort that he had provided her. She decided to tell him another story. He had seemed to like them all so far, she wasn’t sure that he knew what she was saying but talking about her problems helped her and he seemed to enjoy her talking at the very least even if he doesn’t actually understand what she’s saying. “I named you after my brother Rhaegar.” 

The dragon’s eyes snapped to her craning his neck to look at her eyes as she spoke. He was transfixed from the first word. She smiled at him, patted his snout and continued her tale. “I never met him as the Usurper killed him before I was born but from what I heard from Ser Willem Darry, Ser Barristan and Viserys he was a great man.” 

Rhaegal growled lowly as if disagreeing. “He was.” She protested. It was the first time Rhaegal had growled at her during any of her stories, still, she pressed on with her tale. “He was a singer, Ser Darry tells me. He played the harp as well as anyone in all of the seven kingdoms and was a great swordsman also. He fought a war for the hand of his paramour, the sister of one of the Usurper’s dogs, Lyanna Stark.” Her voice was hollow, lacking much in the way of emotion as she told her tale, her mind not entirely present.

“Her hand was promised to the Usurper but he loved her and her him; they ran off together, Ser tells me.” Rhaegal narrowed his eyes and Daenerys stared at him unflinching, she knew Rhaegal wouldn’t hurt her and when he relaxed she continued her tale. 

“Rhaegar gave her everything as the two lived happily together in a tower in Dorne, the Tower of Joy they called it. Alas, all good things had to come to an end and with war brewing, Rhaegar left to go fight the usurper. He took off with Ser Willem’s brother, Jonothor to fight the Usurper at the Trident, to kill Robert Baratheon and finally be free to wed his beloved. He left both her and her unborn child with Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Oswell Whent and Ser Gerald Hightower behind to go fight in that war, vowing to return to her to hold his newborn daughter in his arms. ***1** _Visenya_ he had planned to name her, Darry claimed.” Her voice hitched as the painful memory tried to overwhelm her; she wasn’t sure why she felt the need to share this with Rhaegal but she did so she pressed on. ***2**

“He was confident that she would bear him his second daughter. For the dragon must have three heads, his children would be the ones who were prophesied and they had to be named after Aegon and his sisters.” Her voice was somewhat bitter, she did not believe in prophecy herself- all it had ever caused her was pain. 

  
She frowned, a single tear going down her cheek. “The Usurper killed him on the trident, his war hammer smashing his ribcage and destroying his lungs. The hit wrecked his breastplate and sent the rubies lining it clattering into the river to be found by foragers. In the house of the undying, I saw it happen, the last word he uttered was the name of his paramour. _Lyanna._ Ser Jonothor was killed and neither ever returned to the Lady Lyanna.”

The Kingsguard who had stayed loyal to Rhaegar even after his death stayed with the Lady Lyanna. They all died at the hand of Stark and his companions. Seven went to that tower and only two returned, Lord Stark and a companion with the corpse of Lady Lyanna. Stark claims that Rhaegar had killed her or his Kingsguard maybe as she was dead when he arrived but that can’t be true. Rhaegar loved her, everyone said he did.” She argued. “I never knew my unborn niece nor the ones who were born, all killed by the usurper and his dogs.”   
  
Rhaegal tore away from her without a second glance and leaped into the night’s sky, flying up, up and away out of sight. 

“Rhaegal!” She screamed after him. She was alone again. 

She began to cry in earnest, she was back to where she had started, Alone and going to die. She wondered what she had done to make him so angry enough to leave. She continued to scream into the blue for Rhaegal but he did not heed her call. She was alone and going to die.

No, she would not lay down to die. She would not cry. She was The Dragon. She was The Last Dragon. She was Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the first of her name, The Unburnt, The Breaker of Chains, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Lady Protector of the Realm, Lady Regent of the Seven Kingdoms and The Mother of Dragons. ***3** She would overcome as she always did and she would conquer Westeros like Aegon did, by fire and blood. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I hate this chapter too, I might rewrite at some point. If you can believe it the next chapter is actually worse. Most the things that happened in this chapter happened for plot purposes more so than making sense logically, there is some sense to them but also her character is kind of inconsistent here but uh traumatic experiences have odd results?
> 
> *1 The story we are told of Jon's birth logically makes zero sense. There are seven men in the Kings Guard and three of them did not go to fight on the Trident instead staying at the Tower of Joy with Lyanna. Rhaegal would not have been allowed to travel on his own considering the risk so at least one person would have to accompany him probably of the Kings Guard. If he had a small army at the Tower of Joy with him there is no way it could have stayed a secret which realistically means Rhaegar had over half the Kings Guard with him leaving Aerys defenseless? He shouldn't have been a priority over Aerys which means that either Ned did not see them at the Trident and they just fled after Rhaegar died (And lied about not being there) or that at least some of them were with Aerys and fled after he died or bent the knee to Robert ("Our knees do not bend easy" does not mean they don't bend) and were sent by Robert to kill Jon when he was a babe (Which explains attacking Ned since if they were protecting Lyanna/Baby Jon surely they would have tried to talk first. Alternatively, the Raven saw wrong/intentionally lied to manipulate events. Point is what we see is obviously not entirely accurate. For this, I just went with Ser Jonothor Darry (Who cannonolically died in the Battle of The Trident) also being with him and traveling with him to the Trident for the battle but that is maybe the least likely explanation just the easiest one. I also presumed he told his brother about where he was and why because we know in the books Daenerys knows Rhaegal and Lyanna were in love (Before her wedding she fantasizes about Daario taking her away like Rhaegal did with his Lyanna) so she had to have heard it from somewhere.
> 
> *2 I know people like to say that Rhaegal named Jon- Jaehaerys, Aemon, Aegon or whatever but there is no reason to believe he would have known it was a boy. In fact, considering Rhaegal's names for his other two kids being Rhaenys and Aegon and his obsession with the three headed dragon and prophecy I would be astonished if he even thought there was a possibility Jon would be a boy and would have named his daughter Visenya for obvious reasons. 
> 
> *3 Daenerys calls herself Khaleesi of The Great Grass Sea when she first arrives in Meereen and the title doesn't change after she gets 100K Dothraki in her Khalasar. 
> 
> There is a second chapter as well today because they both are short and are terrible.


	4. Jon III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second chapter posted today, make sure to read the other one first.

Jon took to the sky the moment her tale was done. He needed to think and be away from her to do so, he had always done his best thinking alone. He could feel her pain at his leaving through their connection but he needed to be alone right now so he shut it out. 

He had already suspected he was Rhaegar and Lyanna’s son, but now that he knew Lyanna was pregnant when Rhaegar had left his fears were confirmed. He didn’t know what to think of his father, Rhaegar Targaryen. The common tale that was told in the North was of Rhaegar kidnapping Lyanna and raping her. In Dorne, where he was apparently born they told a tale of Lyanna seducing Rhaegar away from his wife and stealing him away in search of power and the position of Queen. Daenerys spun another tale of love and heartbreak. All the sources were obviously biased and Jon had no clue who to believe.

He wanted to believe Daenerys’s version of the story and it made the most sense for why Lord Stark had raised him as his own son, why he had wanted to protect him rather than see him dead as he surely would have if she had actually been raped. Ser Darry was supposedly an honorable man, surely he would have told her the truth, right? Jon wanted to believe his father had been a good man but it was hard to hear that all the tales he had heard, the history that they taught in the North was false.

Truthfully it didn’t really matter if his mother had consented and wanted to be with Rhaegal. His parents had been selfish and the entire kingdom paid for their dalliance. They had chosen their own desire to be with each other over hundreds of thousands of innocent lives. They had been completely selfish and his father had ended the greatest dynasty in the world because he was foolish enough to let himself love his mother. 

He was glad to finally know the truth regardless of how ugly it was, Lord Stark had denied it to him for so long. He understood why now but it still hurt to have been lied to for so long. His mother had been under his nose, her statue in the crypts the entire time and he had never known. It did explain why his Lord father-uncle he corrected himself, often took him with to go pay his respects to her though. 

Jon had been flying for a while mostly in circles with no direction in sight. He had calmed down enough to return to his mother-aunt-Daenerys? He didn’t know what to call her anymore, regardless he could return but he still felt guilty for leaving her. Perhaps, he could bring her a peace offering, something to eat maybe, she hadn’t eaten in a while he knew, since that horse earlier and that had been hours ago. 

Jon resolved to find her a nice rabbit or pigeon that he would cook to human’s standard for perfection for her to enjoy. She deserved only the best food after all, and despite his taste for only the blackest food he knew that humans preferred their meat well done, not raw or burnt but in the middle of the two. 

Jon spied a deer in the grass, lounging there with her young lying underneath it, suckling at her breast. That could be Jon’s meal, he needed to eat as well and it was oh so fun to kill it. He burnt the thing and it’s young to a crisp devouring them, both doe and fawn with savage glee. Once Jon had ate his fill he took to the skies, flying low scanning the ground for any sign of a meal for  _ her.  _

He caught a rabbit with his paws, hard claws crushing its head. He tossed it back on the ground and breathed on it. His hot breath incinerated the beast engulfing it in flames and turning it black. Far too crispy and burnt for any human to enjoy. That would not do at all, time to find a new rabbit for her.

The sun was rising in the east by the time Jon finally had a rabbit cooked to his satisfaction for mother. He had exterminated most of the local rabbit population in his search, roasting too many of them to a crisp until he finally learned to control his flame to an extent where he had some control over the temperature and length of the blast. He hoped that a well-cooked rabbit, almost fit for even a queen to eat would satisfy her and make up for his abandoning her. 

Daenerys had moved from where he had left her, she was a few miles southeast from where he had left her now and Jon couldn't help but feel guilty. She thought he had abandoned her, maybe he had left but he had always planned on coming back. He had been a fool when he went hunting for her, they could have been back in Meereen and she could have eaten a real meal. His stubbornness to get the rabbit perfect for her had made her suffer needlessly.

He landed to find her glaring at him. She was standing strong and firm, much different from the weak and somewhat clingy girl she had been when he had left her. She looked every bit the part of the Queen she was proclaimed to be, even if she was naked and her legs were caked in dirt. “Finally came back, did you” She sneered at him with hands on her hips and Jon felt ashamed of his behavior. Her voice was condescending yet also showed her love for him. He had betrayed her, her tone said. He meekly threw the nicely cooked rabbit at her feet and layed down on the ground, baring his neck for her to climb on his back.

Her gaze softened somewhat. “Did you leave for me? To get this?” She asked him her voice was firm but he could detect the underlying emotion and love in her words.

Jon nodded his head before shame filled him for kind of lying, so he shook his head and tried to shrug his wings. He didn’t know how much of his signs she had understood. 

She bit her pale upper lip between her front teeth and then laughed. Her laugh was beautiful, like music to his ears and he needed to hear it more often from her. He would dedicate his whole life to her if he could. She was his mother, his aunt, and something more. He was a dragon now and would never leave her side, she would be Queen of all the Seven Kingdoms and from his back, she would conquer the world. 

Her reply was curt and toneless. “Thank you, Rhaegal.” She tore into the rabbit with her bare hands and he watched mesmerized as she brought chunks of meat to her mouth, a pleased smile on her face as she swallowed each bite. His eyes were drawn to her small pink tongue as she greedily licked her fingers clean with all sense of decorum gone with no one watching her here other than him- her dragon. 

When she had finished the rabbit she climbed aboard his back and grabbed tightly to the Bronze spines on his neck. “Go straight to Meereen Rhaegal, no stopping this time,” she told him her voice soft but commanding. 

Jon rushed to obey her command, still feeling somewhat ashamed at his earlier behavior. He had been trying to be kind by stopping to let before but perhaps really he had been selfish, wanting to have her all for himself, back in Meereen she would have to spend most her day ruling- not with him. Jon would miss this- all the time they had to themselves, just he and her against the wild wilderness.

They took to the skies, Daenerys laughing as he ascended and he couldn't help but roar triumphantly. The flight was a long one to return to Meereen- probably about eight hours they flew for. For most of the flight, she told him some more stories well they flew to Meereen, she would speak into his neck and it was only his widely superior hearing to that of a human that allowed him to hear what she was saying over the roar of the wind. With every tale she told him of herself he became more and more enamored with his rider. She had also told him more second-hand stories of her brother, his human father, and draconic namesake, Rhaegar. He still had somewhat mixed feelings about him, he wanted to learn more about him but it still felt like a betrayal of everything he had ever known. He much preferred the tales about his rider, they were less conflicting and she was more interesting anyway. 

When he descended towards the city she had stopped talking to him instead just basking in the joy of finally being relatively safe, as close to home as she had been in a long while. There were kids shouting in the streets of Meereen, some running in terror, others laughing and pointing as he flew overhead. Many of the smallfolk had stopped what they had been doing to look up at him and their Queen on his back. He could hear frantic conversations amongst the smallfolk in what Jon believed to be some form of Valyrian. Many of them were crying out  _ Mhysa  _ at them as they spotted his mother. Jon was tempted to roar in celebration as he felt through their bond his mother’s joy of finally being home but he refrained knowing that doing so might cause him to shoot flames in his excitement and that would almost certainly anger her. 

“Mhysa!” Voices cried out to their Queen on his back, Jon didn’t know what that meant but he could feel his mother’s pleasure and she smiled prettily at the small folk. She waved her hand at them below and they all waved back at her, their cries of Mhysa only growing louder the closer they got to the ground. 

He landed on top of the largest temple where she had pointed him to and craned his neck down to the balcony of what Rhaegal knew to be her room. As she dismounted Jon stared at her completely transfixed. This was the end of their journey together, he had taken her from the wilderness that she called the Dothraki Sea and took her home. He had grown to care for her, to believe in her, as they traveled together. He would miss hearing her stories of her life, and riding with her on his back. 

She held his head in her hands and pressed her face to his. She gently placed her lips on his maw, above the nostrils, and between his eyes. Her cool moist sweet lips dried up on contact, his heated scales evaporating all the moisture in her mouth. The kiss was brief and all too soon the moment was over. She turned inside and left him there to all the peoples’ voices calling out for her. 

He watched her as she receded from him and into her pyramid. She was in her Queen mode the moment she had turned from him; the tender woman he had journeyed with was replaced by the passionate leader and Queen she was. She demanded news of what had happened in her absence and a voice Jon recognized as Tyrion Lannister among others he didn’t recognize had answered her commands. That was an odd companion that he hadn’t expected her to have. She was a true leader and the right Queen for Westeros Jon knew. Jon Snow might be dead but he knew that she would do Westeros proud, somehow he would tell her about The Great Other and his army and she would save the seven kingdoms from The Great Other. And Jon would be by her side when she took the Iron Throne from the Lannisters with fire and blood. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I told you this chapter sucks. I needed to have this chapter happen but yikes it did not come out well at all.
> 
> No Dothraki for Daenerys, giving her 100,000 Dothraki screamers was stupid and made her conquest of Westeros all too easy. The North had only 15,000 men when Robb was proclaimed King, the Lannisters had maybe 30,000. Giving Daenerys enough men to match all the armies of Westeros and three dragons was an absurd decision that made her waiting to take King's Landing extrmemly illogical. She also had Dorne (Which in the books the 50,00 men is a complete lie, they're the least populous of the eight Kingdoms), the reach, the North, and presumably the Vale. There is zero chance that Cersei even if the Stormlands supported her along with the Iron Islands and the Golden Company could have posed any threat at all. This will not be the comically easy conquest that it was for Daenerys in the show. 
> 
> Next chapter we get to see what is happening on the wall and the quality and length of chapters drastically improves from there on out.


	5. Davos I

Ser Davos had not found rest easy this night, the red woman had returned to Castle Black and brought terrible news with her. He had paced back and forth in his quarters for many hours trying to contemplate what she had told him. King Stannis was dead along with his sweet daughter Shireen, a girl he had loved as if she were his own. His King was dead, Shireen was dead, and all of his sons were dead. Stannis had named him his hand and he had failed him. What did he have left? Tomorrow he would ask the Lord Commander Jon Snow to take the black. He needed to atone for his abandonment of Stannis, the role he had played in Shireen’s death. He needed to fight for something he believed in, somebody he believed in. That had been Stannis but Jon Snow was as good of a man as any. He was committed to doing what he thought was right even when it wasn’t easy. He had a good heart and Davos believed in his cause. ***1**

The sound of a wolf howling off in the distance brought him out of his melancholy. Jon Snow also had a wolf, a direwolf he knew and it was as big of a bear. The wolf howled again and again in the distance. It’’s cry was a sad one, full of mourning. The somber song matching Davos’s feelings at this moment.

He should have insisted more that Shireen stayed back with him, then at least she would still be here. He prayed that she had met a quick painless end at the very least, his worst fear was that the Bolton’s had captured her and were torturing her, flaying her, and raping her for their amusement. He knew she no longer had any value as a hostage what with House Baratheon extinguished and the Lannister’s well technically kin would not lift a finger to save her. Yes, it was for the best that she was truly dead even if part of him hoped she still lived. 

He needed fresh air, Davos had decided. The bitter cold of the North had always been good to numb his pain and clear his head. It was a grounding presence to him. He stepped outside and found the courtyard unsurprisingly empty, it was the middle of the night after all. He descended the steps as the wolves continued to howl in the distance, he wondered if one of their pack had died tonight. 

The snow was past his ankles when he reached the bottom. His breath smoky and visible in the cold of the night. The words of Jon Snow’s fathers’ house ringed true for all to hear.  _ Winter is Coming.  _ His eyes drifted around the courtyard, trying to figure out a path to walk, and then his eyes came upon it.

He could hardly believe what he was seeing, surely the gods could never be so cruel. Lying on the ground in the corner, was Jon Snow half-buried in the snow, unmoving. A little boy with his foot torn off lay beside him and the third man with his throat torn open was also there. The snow was a light pink that was quickly fading as fresh snow fell on top of the blemished layers. He broke into a sprint, his gait uneven and slow. Even after all this time up north he still hadn’t figured out how to move properly in such deep snow. 

  
There was no mistaking it, Jon Snow was dead. Along with his steward, a bloody mangled mess and another watchman he didn’t recognize. His wolf as well, he had been almost unnoticeable with his snowy pelt that had since been blanketed by even more snow. The Lord Commander had five holes in his vest, stab wounds no doubt Davos knew. His eyes were glassy and rolled over, no signs of his usual liveliness in them. His long black hair was fanned out around his head, covered in white snow and red with blood, an odd combination that looked way too festive for the occasion. Nailed above his resting place was a signpost with one word in all caps. TRAITOR.

Davos knelt by Jon Snow’s corpse and checked him for a pulse already knowing but fearing the answer. To no surprise, Jon had none. The gods’ cruelty apparently knew no bounds and were paying him back for his assistance in Renly’s assassination, the kin-slaying he had partaken in. Davos had nothing left for him, his sons were all dead, perished by the Wildfire in the Battle of the Blackwater. His King was dead, killed by the Bolton’s in a foolhardy battle. The girl he had thought of like a daughter was dead or even worse off. Now, the man he had been willing to vow his life to his cause, the man he had hoped would be his new Lord was also dead, killed by his own men. The men that Davos only a few minutes ago had planned on calling his brothers had killed Jon Snow, possibly even Lord Snow's own steward judging by the savage way he was dismembered. 

  
Davos had never been a man with much of a temper nor a need to rage bur right now that was exactly what he needed to do. He wanted to scream into the great beyond the wall where no one could hear him. He wanted to bang his first against the wall until he broke his hand and then a few times more for good measure. None of this was fair. 

He wasn’t sure how long he had knelt by his body before a crowd of crows flocked around him and the body of the Lord Commander. “Bring him inside.” Ser Davos ordered, his voice emotionless and hollow. “The wolf too.” He added as an afterthought. Snow would want his wolf to be burnt along with him so they didn’t join the others as wights. 

He watched still unmoving from where he sat kneeled to the Lord Commander as they brought the body into the Lord Command’s office. Three of them carried him inside, one grabbing his legs the other two took a shoulder. A fourth man hauled Ghost over his shoulder. He shared a solemn look with Dolorous Edd, he looked even more upset than Davos was. His eyes looking past Davos and at the word TRAITOR nailed to the wall. The determination in his eyes told Davos more than words ever could. They promised revenge, and payback to whatever traitors had done that, a sentiment Davos himself could agree with. 

-

It was just him, Edd and three others he didn’t recognize, Edd had been visibly angered and scared off everyone else. He had watched as with a tenderness rarely seen from him had closed Jon’s eyes. He had then whirled around to Davos and spat with all his usual fiery tone. “Thorne did this.” 

Davos silently agreed, they needed to avenge the Lord Commander and stop Thorne from undoing all of Jon’s work. “How many of your brothers do you think you can trust?” He asked him his voice low, in case anyone was listening in. 

Edd surveyed the room, looking at the other three brothers. “Trust?” He laughed bitterly. “The men in this room. That’s it.” He paused for a moment then added. “Sam too but he’s not here.” 

Davos frowned, this was not going to be easy to overthrow Thorne. They needed all the men they can get if they were to have a chance at this. “Is there-” He was cut off by a knock on the door. 

Every single one of the men in the room besides himself unsheathed their swords. Their blades all were held out in front of them, ready to die with their Lord. Davos felt naked without a sword of his own, perhaps he should grab Jon’s sword and use that for now.

“Ser Davos.” A women’s voice called. He would recognize that octave anywhere, it was the Red Woman, the Lady Melisandre who he partially blamed for Stannis’s defeat and his sons’ death. Still, they needed all the help they could get and she certainly wielded tremendous power. He had seen it himself when she had given birth to that shadow thing that killed Renly. Magic could give them the edge they needed to overcome Thorne and his men. He hated her magic but it was power.

Edd who had been standing by the door looks over at Davos who nods in return. “Let her in.” 

Edd opens the door and watches as Melisandre enters the room, his eyes mistrusting. Melisandre looks at Jon Snow’s corpse and purses her lips, the disbelief clear in her red eyes. 

“This is impossible.” She stated adamant as she inspected his wounds. “I saw it in the flames, he was fighting at Winterfell.”

Davos swallowed his voice was tense and filled with emotion. “I can’t speak for the flames but... He’s gone.” 

Melisandre still in denial cupped his cheek in her palm. “There is no warmth. He can’t be dead, he was-” She trailed off. “I was wrong again.” 

Davos didn’t know what she had meant by that but it didn’t matter. 

A horn sounded outside, calling everyone to the great hall for a meeting. None of them moved an inch, they knew they would find no quarter at the meeting where Thorne took over. “They’ll see we didn’t come. Thorne will have made it official by now. Castle Black is his.” Davos said stating the obvious aloud.” 

“I don’t care who’s sitting at the high table. Jon was my friend, and those fuckers butchered him. Now we return the favor.” Edd spat venomously at no one in particular. 

“We don’t have the men,” Davos argued a plan already coming to his mind. They weren’t the only ones loyal to Jon Snow after all. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Ed shouted banging his fist against the wall in frustration. He unsheathed his sword and stomped over to the door. 

Davos blocked his way. “It’s not enough,” Davos repeated a little more firm this time. “I didn’t know Lord Commander Snow for long, but I have to believe he wouldn’t have wanted his friends to die for nothing. We need a plan.” 

Ed spun on his heel and glared at him brandishing his steel. “If you were planning to see tomorrow, you picked the wrong room. We all die today. I say we do our best to take Thorne with us when we go.” 

“Aye.” Davos agreed. “We need to fight, but we don’t need to die. Not if we have help.”

“Whose going to help us?” The stocky and short man asked confused. 

  
Davos only smiled in return, his first smile since finding the Lord Commander dead. “You’re not the only ones who owe your lives to Jon Snow.” 

Ed laughed when he realized what Davos was planning of course. “Bolt the door, Toad.” He said addressing the same plump watchman. “Don’t let anyone in. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 

He threw open the door only to be met with a crossbow pointed at his chest. He immediately slammed the door shut. “So much for that plan,” Edd muttered as he leaned back against that door. 

-

They had spent the last hour or so going in circles. Many plans were discussed but none were at all viable. They couldn't get to the wildlings so gaining them as allies would be an impossible task, they were stuck with who they had. 

There was a knocking on the door and once again every man drew their sword sans him who did not have one. 

“Ser Davos, we have no cause to fight. We are both anointed knights.” Alliser Thorne called through the door the sound was too hollow, he was at least a few paces away from the door. 

Ed stepped up to the door to whisper in Davos’s ear. “This is our chance, Thorne is here. Let’s open that door and butcher him before he can move.” 

Davos shook his head in the negative and pressed his ear to the door. He spoke loud enough that he knew Thorne could hear him on the other side. “Hear that, lads? Nothing to fear.” There was a couple of chuckles from the men with Thorne- he had counted three different laughs. At best they had one more man- realistically they were outnumbered. ***2**

“I will grant amnesty to all brothers who have thrown down their arms before nightfall. And you, Ser Davos, I will allow you to travel south, a free man with a fresh horse.” Alliser offered his voice filled with some annoyance. Good an angered foe was easier to defeat than a calm one.

“And some mutton. I’d like some mutton.” Davos added. Another two different laughs answered his call, Thorne had at least five companions. 

“What?” Thorne asked completely oblivious to Davos’s scheme.    
  
“I’m not much of a hunter. I’ll need some food if I’m gonna make it south without starving.” Davos replied honestly. Another new man giggled make that six.

“We’ll give you food. You can bring the Red Woman with you if you like. Or you can leave her here with us, whichever you choose. But surrender by nightfall or this ends with blood.” Ser Alliser swore. 

“Thank you, Ser Alliser. We’ll discuss amongst ourselves and come back to you with an answer at nightfall.” Davos agreed. 

They heard the footsteps receding as Thorne and his men walked away. As soon as they were gone Ed turned on Davos. “What was that? We could have had him.” 

“There were at least seven of them, likely decked in full armor. We would have been slaughtered if we had tried anything.”

“We could have got Thorne first!” Edd exclaimed louder this time. His face was slightly red with the passion he was showing, his anger boiling over. 

Davos once again shook his head in the negative. “Thorne was at few paces back from the door, likely surrounded by his own men. We wouldn’t have reached him.” 

“How did you know that?” The tall watchman with a handlebar black mustache and a bald head asked. 

“I was a smuggler. I’ve been running from men like that my whole life, it’s one of the things you have to know to survive. In my learned opinion, if we open that door-” 

“They’ll slaughter us all.” Toad finished for him. 

“Aye.” Davos agreed. “But we don’t have to make it easy on them.” 

“So what?” Ed spat. “Do we just pray and hope that Tormund decided he wanted to visit Jon today? Can the odds even get better for us?” 

“There’s always the Red Woman,” Davos interjected. 

“What the fuck is one Redhead going to do against 40 armed men?” The biggest of the men in the room asked he was nearly seven feet tall and extremely muscular. His voice was surprisingly high pitched, almost a woman’s tone. He had short brown hair and a large nose that drew the eyes. 

Davos smiled. “You haven’t seen her do what I’ve seen her do.” 

“And what’s that?” Edd demanded impatiently. 

“Magic.” 

-

Nightfall had come and the brothers still had no plan of attack. They would fight to the last man but they knew the battle would be hopeless. They would all die today. He had asked Melisandre if she could do anything, any spells that could help them but she had nothing that would help, and didn’t require extensive preparation. 

Ser Alliser Thorne knocked once on the door right on schedule. “Nightfall has come. It’s time, Ser Davos. Open the door and the men inside can rejoin their brothers in peace.” He addressed them still standing a bit of the way back from the door. “Nobody needs to die tonight.” 

Davos turned to look at the brave men gathered with him in the room. “I’ve never been much of a fighter.” He picked up longclaw from where it laid by Jon’s side. He ran his thumb over the wolf pommel that looked so much like Lord Snow’s direwolf. “But today we fight.” He declared. 

All at once Davos and the rest of the men unsheathed their swords. Melisandre even had a pair of spare knives from one of the watchmen, the mustached one he had recently found out was named Ulmer.

He heard Ser Alliser sigh faintly on the other side of the door. “I’ll give you another twenty-four hours to decide. We’ll see if the hunger changes your minds. I have no desire that any of you die.” ***3**

-

Once again Nightfall was upon them and they stood ready to fight when Ser Alliser knocked on the door. “Have you made your decision yet?”

Their resolve was unchanged but Davos knew that they would not be as much of a challenge for Ser Alliser’s men. They were weak and tired without food to sustain them. Thankfully, Lord Snow’s water basin had been filled recently so they weren’t yet dying of thirst but the hunger would do them in, Davos knew it was only a matter of time. 

Ed answered for Davos. “You murdered your Lord Commander. The only reason we’d come out is to take your head on a spike.” He spat at him his voice filled with venom.

Ser Alliser Thorne chuckled. “Aye. I did kill my Lord Commander.” He agreed. “So did Bowen Marsh, and Othyll Yarwyn; As well as Wick Whittlestick and even little Olly, may the gods rest their souls. We’ve committed treason, all of us. Jon Snow was my Lord Commander. I had no love for him. That was no secret. But I never once disobeyed an order. Loyalty is the foundation on which the Night’s Watch is built, and the Watch means everything to me. I have given my life, we have all given our lives to the Night’s Watch.” 

“That was not why I killed him. I killed him because Jon Snow broke his vows. The same vows we all swore when we joined the Night’s Watch, Jon Snow let wildlings settle our lands, put our peoples at risk. Put the entire north at risk. Only a few months after so many of our brave brothers died defending our lands from the wildlings- he let them in. Jon Snow layed with a wilding woman.” Thorne declared loud enough for all the brothers to hear, both in this room and in the courtyard. 

“The Night’s Watch is sworn to take no part in the wars of men. Jon Snow broke that part of his vows as well. The Lord Commander advised Stannis on battle strategy to help him take the North back from the Bolton’s for his loyalty was still to his father’s house even after swearing his vows. He housed and fed Lord Stannis’s men, again violating his vow.”

“Yes, I committed treason. I killed my Lord Commander but it was not murder but an execution. If the next Lord Commander wants to execute me for this then I will walk to my death with my head held high. I did what no one else would because my loyalty is to the Night’s Watch and not dead men or myself. I do not want any of my innocent brothers to die for a dead man and a traitor.” ***4**

The crowd outside the door broke into a smattering of applause at the end of his speech. Some people shouted out nominations for him to be Lord Commander. Davos couldn't help but to frown. Gathering enough people loyal to Jon Snow had just gotten much harder. Thorne would undo all of Lord Snow’s good work if he was made Lord Commander. 

“I’ll give you another day to decide; I pray you make the right decision. 

-

Again Ser Alliser had shown up and again they had refused him but Davos knew this wouldn’t last. It was only the stubbornness of Edd and the fear of his wrath that had stopped Toad from giving them up. 

Davos sighed running a hand through the little hair he had on his head, completely grayed over that made him look much older than he really was. He was on watch duty right while the others slept. Also on watch with him was the Lady Melisandre who stood forlornly over the Lord Commander’s corpse. It had started to reek, the stench of death and rot in the room had only made the hunger worse. At one point Halder, the big and brutish fool that he is had offered up the idea of eating Ghost. The others had all shot down his idea but Davos had to admit if Thorne kept this up then they would likely end up doing just that. 

Melisandre had her hand on Jon’s chest drawing little circles on it. He knew she was struggling to come to terms with the Lord Commander’s death. She had decided after Stannis’s death that the Lord Commander Jon Snow was Azor Ahai reborn after she had seen him fighting in Winterfell in her flames. Now he was dead, again. Twice now she had been wrong about her prophesied prince. Davos thought it was all a load of hogwash but she did have real power. He knew that much. It was a longshot but what other choice did they have? 

“Pardon My Lady, I don’t mean to interrupt.” He spoke softly to her so the others currently sleeping in the room would not be disturbed. 

She didn’t glance away from the Lord’s pale figure. “You interrupt nothing.” Despite the rest of their companions being staved half to death, she looked as healthy as ever, physically at least. Mentally, she looked like she had aged a thousand years. She now longer was as bright and perky as she always had been. Before, she would have proclaimed for all the world to hear the  _ truth _ of her god, now she sat silently staring into the fireplace or at the body in the middle of the room. 

“It’s about the Lord Commander.” He whispered to her. 

“The  _ former _ Lord Commander.” She corrected him putting extra emphasis on the word former. 

“Does it have to be? 

She finally glanced away from Lord Snow to look him in the eyes. “What exactly are you asking?” He had her attention now and Davos had the feeling she already knew his answer.” 

“Do you know of any magic…” Davos trailed off unsure of how to phrase this. “That could help him? Bring him back?” 

She frowned and looked away from him casting her gaze back at Lord Snow’s corpse. “If you want to help him at all, leave him be.” 

Ed had apparently woken up at some point during their conversation as he spoke next. “So there is a way?” 

Her tone was blank when she responded. “There is some with this power.” 

“How?” Edd and Davos demanded sharply in unison. “Whatever the price is I’ll pay it.” Edd swore to her. 

“I don’t know.” She turned away from the Lord Commander and back to the fireplace that provided the only heat in the room. 

“Have you seen it done?” Davos prodded. She had given them hope and he would not let it go.

“I met a man.” She paused her thoughts in another place. “He came back from the dead, but the priest who did it- it shouldn’t have been possible.” 

“But it was. It could be now.” Davos insisted. 

“What was?” Toad grumbled sleepily he had woken up as well from their conversation. 

“Not for me.” Melisandre insisted, standing and walking to the fire, she stared into it a tear running down her cheek. 

Davos followed her and grabbed her hand, spinning her around to face him. “Not for you? I saw you drink poison that should’ve killed you. I saw you give birth to a demon made of shadows.” 

Melisandre pulled her hands from his grip and looked back towards the fires. “Everything I believed, the great victory I saw in the flames, all of it was a lie.” Her voice was hollow and passionless. “You were right all along. The Lord never spoke to me.” 

Davos knew he was being hypocritical, he had cursed her god and her evil black magic more times then he could remember and now he was turning to him, to her for help because they needed it. He still partially blamed her for Stannis’s defeat, he had foolishly followed her visions in the flames and had lost because of it. Still, he knew she wielded real power. “Fuck him, then. Fuck all of them. I’m not a devout man, obviously. Seven Gods, drowned gods, tree gods, it's all the same.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her to face towards him. “I’m not asking the Lord of Light for help.I’m asking the woman who showed me that miracles exist. The women who showed me that magic was not as dead as the Maesters think. The one who did the impossible.” 

Edd chipped in. “I don’t believe in gods, but I do believe in men. I believe in Jon Snow, he was the best man I’ve ever known and we need him. If you can bring him back, whatever the cost then do it because he’s the closest thing to a god in this world.”

“I never had this gift,” Melisandre repeated. 

“Have you ever tried.” Davos quiered. 

She sighed in resignation. “I’ll try but don’t expect anything.” 

“That’s all we can ask.” Davos agreed. 

Melisandre pointed at Edd. “Bring me the Water basin and some rags.” She commanded and Edd immediately went to go fetch them with toad trailing behind him. She then turned to Davos. “Help me undress him.” 

Davos nodded and they all went about their tasks. At some point in the process, Ulmer and Halder had also woken up. They had asked what was going on and Edd had quickly explained that they were trying to resurrect Jon Snow. That had shut them up pretty quickly and now they like everyone else stood still watching as the Lady Melisandre ran a wet washcloth over Jon’s skin wiping the blood away from his wounds. 

Davos wanted Jon back as much as anyone but if this didn’t work then they were wasting much of their very limited water supply. Once she had washed his entire body and cut their water supply in half she moved onto his face. She took a knife offered to her by Edd and roughly cut at his hair and beard trimming them to a respectable length. All the hair she had cut off was then tossed into the fire pit along with the blood-soaked rags. The fire sizzled and steamed in protest as the damp rags were burned by the flames. 

Once all that was done she leaned over him and pressed her hands over his heart. Zȳhys ōñoso jehikagon Āeksiot epi, se gīs hen sȳndrorro jemagon. Zȳhys perzys stepagon Āeksio Ōño jorepi, se morghūltas lȳs qēlītsos sikagon. Hen sȳndrorro, ōños. Hen ñuqīr, perzys. Hen morghot, glaeson.” She chanted in what Davos believed to be Valyrian. 

Jon Snow remains unmoving. “Zȳhys ōñoso jehikagon Āeksiot epi, se gīs hen sȳndrorro jemagon. Zȳhys perzys stepagon Āeksio Ōño jorepi, se morghūltas lȳs qēlītsos sikagon. Hen sȳndrorro, ōños. Hen ñuqīr, perzys. Hen morghot, glaeson.” She chants again.

Again nothing happens. “Please.” She begged, tears running down her face. Davos could not say if she was begging her god or the Lord Commander. 

“Zȳhys ōñoso jehikagon Āeksiot epi, se gīs hen sȳndrorro jemagon. Zȳhys perzys stepagon Āeksio Ōño jorepi, se morghūltas lȳs qēlītsos sikagon. Hen sȳndrorro, ōños. Hen ñuqīr, perzys. Hen morghot, glaeson.” She shouted one final time. 

Again Jon Snow did not move. She shook her head and walked back over to the fireplace never once looking back. Halder scoffed and walked away but Edd and Davos stood where they were still staring at the Lord Commander. There was no denying the truth, Jon Snow was dead. 

-

The last few days had been rough for the men loyal to Jon Snow so it was only natural that something had to go their way eventually, that thing had come in the middle of the night that fourth day of being locked in that room. While Toad and Halder had been on watch, Hobb had come by bearing a basket of food and a jug of water. If it had been Davos who had been on watch he would have almost certainly turned him away thinking it was a trap but it was a good thing he hadn’t been on watch. 

Hobb was one of the cooks at Castle Black and he had apparently put Milk of The Poppy in the scheduled guards for the 1:00-3:00 AM window and the window before and after them were apparently mostly made up of people loyal to Jon Snow and against Thorne, they had more allies then they knew. Davos had asked Hobb to have one of them go to the Wildlings- specifically Tormund and tell them the news of Lord Snow’s death but Hobb had told them that the wall was in emergency lockdown until the current situation was resolved. Hobb said he’d try to bring them more food again but to ration it as he wasn’t sure when they would get the chance again. 

They had overindulged the first night, breaking their fast with a rather large serving of bread, a handful of grapes and some nuts but since then they had rationed well and they had enough to survive a week longer. The Lady Melisandre had refused to eat any of the food brought before her, not even a nibble. The failure to bring back Lord Snow had hit her hard and she was wasting away. Davos would admit he felt slightly guilty- having persuaded her to try it in the first place. Davos was sure she would die if nothing changed. 

Occasionally, Davos would think he saw the Lord Commander’s fingers twitch or his chest rise but it was only his imagination. Jon Snow was dead and Davos was directionless. He sighed, wondering what was next, was revenge all that was left for him? They wouldn’t even get that since Thorne could just starve them out, even with Hobbs helps they were at a disadvantage, this was a battle that they couldn't win. Still, they couldn't betray Lord Snow by giving up. 

They knew they needed to burn his body soon or else he might come back as a wight and that would be a terror he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. They couldn't burn him here though, he was much too large for the fireplace and burning him in the open would risk burning them all alive. He knew they needed this standstill to end and soon, but how?

Davos had asked Lady Melisandre again if she knew any magic that could help them win but she had not responded at all instead just gazing at him blankly. The other watchmen wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, taking Alliser Thorne with them when they die but that was almost impossible at this point. He was too smart to actually endanger himself when he came to the door. The wildlings weren’t coming to help them either evidentially. They were all on their own. 

Davos sighed and crouched against the wall closest to the door. They needed to come up with something soon. On the floor, there was a crumpled up note not too far from where Davos was, he could reach it if he stretched a little. Partly because he was curious but more so because he was bored he picked it up and unfurled the paper. It was a letter or at least a draft of one from the late Lord Commander Jon Snow. 

_ Lord Roose Bolton, _

_ The Night’s Watch have come to ask the Warden of the North for aid. The Others are very much real and marching on the wall with an army of the dead, we know they have at least 100,000 wights in their army for sure; including undead Giants, Mammoths, and Ice Spiders. They likely have more than that, that is only what we have seen from them. In this time of crisis, we need all the help we can get. We need all able-bodied men and women- _

Jon Snow had been willing to break bread with the men who butchered his brother at his own wedding. Perhaps, they should do the same. They had bigger issues to worry about then revenge, the dead were coming and they needed to be united. He sighed and walked over to Dolorous Edd, handing him the letter.

“What’s this?” 

“Read it.” Was all Davos said in response. 

He nodded and took the letter from Davos’s hand. As he began to read he frowned, the deeper he got the deeper his frown had grown. When he finished the letter- he handed it to Ser Davos with a sigh. “He wouldn’t want us to do this, would he?” 

Davos nodded.

-

“Nightfall has fallen yet again. You’ve been locked in there a week, ready to give in yet? The party from Shadow Tower arrived yesterday and the group from Eastwatch should arrive in the next few days, you’re going to miss the choosing of the next Lord Commander.” Davos thought that there was a hint of mockery in his voice, as if he couldn't help but rub it in that Lord Snow was dead. 

“We have,” Davos said the tension in the room was suffocating them all. “But we have conditions.” 

Ser Alliser Thorne sounded unbelievably smug when he replied. “Name them. Perhaps you would like some cheese to go with your mutton? A loaf of bread maybe.” 

“The Wildlings will be allowed to attend Jon Snow’s cremation ceremony. They deserve a chance to mourn the man who saved them from certain death just as much as any of us.”  _ More then most of you  _ Davos couldn’t help but think darkly. 

“Go on,” Thorne added, his tone giving no hint of his feelings on that matter.

“You will permit any man not comfortable working in Castle Black with Lord Snow’s murderers to relocate to another location where they are not.”

“That sounds acceptable.” Thorne agreed. “Anything else?”

Davos couldn't help but swallow nervously and glance at all his other brothers in the room. “You claim you did not kill your Lord Commander for personal gain but justice. Prove it, you and your co-conspirators will not run for Lord Commander in the choosing for his replacement.” He spoke loud and clear, making sure that all the other men outside the door could hear him. The goal was to pressure them into accepting that demand or at the very least lose them support when they ran for the position. They needed people to doubt that Ser Alliser’s intentions were as noble as he claimed.

This was the demand that would make or break their entire deal; Edd had wanted to demand Thorne’s head but that would have gotten shut down immediately. This was their compromise, they could get someone who wasn’t Thorne’s lackey in as Lord Commander and he could execute them for their treason.

“Is that all?” Thorne barked, there was a steel in his voice that hadn’t been there previously, that last demand had gotten to him. 

“Yes, that is all. Just three small requests.” 

“Give us the night to discuss this amongst ourselves, we’ll give our response at Dawn.” 

“Seems fair to me,” Davos agreed. 

-

Dawn had taken far too long to arrive. None of them had slept a wink last night, too nervous to sleep. They had feasted- comparatively speaking on the basket of food from Hobb last night, barring them refusing all of their demands they would be leaving this room tonight. It was about time too because Ghost was noticeably rotting at this point. He was bloated and swollen, his skin taking on a bit of a greenish hue. Oddly enough, Jon Snow’s body had yet to show any signs of decomposing, he supposed it was a side-effect of Melisandre’s failed attempt at resurrecting him. 

There was a light rapping on the door. “We’ve come to a decision.” The gruff voice of Ser Alliser Thorne declared. 

Davos who had been somehow nominated the spokes-person for the group answered him. “Alright. Let’s hear it.” 

“We will not permit the wildlings to enter Castle Black under any circumstances.” Davos sighed and Edd snarled. “However, we will allow you to take his body into their lands and you along with any brothers who wish to come along will go there to have his cremation ceremony.”

Davos nodded to himself. That was probably as good as they would get with that one. 

“As First Ranger, I am acting Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch until a new Lord Commander can be chosen. I will grant your request of relocation until a new Lord Commander is chosen but I can not control or make promises on whoever’s behalf that is.”

Davos looked at his companions and they nodded to show their acceptance of that term. “And the third demand?” 

“I agree with the sentiment of your condition but I cannot accept it. I do believe that I would be the best choice for the role of Lord Commander and will not allow the Night’s Watch to fall to ruin when I could have saved it. I and my comrades have agreed that we will not run for the position of Lord Commander for the first night of the choosing. All nights after that we are free to run for the position.” 

Davos looked at the men beside him and slowly they all nodded their heads in acceptance with the terms, albeit somewhat reluctantly. The ball was in their court now, they had gotten enough of their demands to maybe put a stop to Ser Alliser Thorne. The new Lord Commander was never going to be chosen in the first choosing, for Jon Snow to get the position it had taken eleven choosings and that one had only been so fast due to Stannis threatening to choose one himself if they hadn’t elected one. Choosings had taken up to two years in seasons past. The goal of accepting that condition had been not to stop him from being chosen but to give them slander material with which to hurt his campaign. His decision to only withdraw for one day would be all too easy to frame as selfish and the idea that he killed Jon Snow to become Lord Commander would completely kill his entire campaign. Thorne had just unknowingly crippled his and his co-conspirators’ chances at becoming Lord Commander.

  
“Very well Ser, we accept your terms.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *1 Ser Davos has lost everything which is why in cannon he so desperately clings to Jon and makes Melisandre bring him back. He's a follower by nature and believes in Jon, enough to stand by his side when he comes back despite having a wife in the south. If Jon wasn't killed, I'm almost certain that Davos would have taken the black. He is committed to Jon and believes in him. 
> 
> *2 There is no way Ser Davos was just telling jokes to lighten the mood, or for small talk. Lots of people can't control when they laugh and laughs are distinctive and unique. It gives him a rough estimate of how many are outside the door waiting for them, and what their odds are. 
> 
> *3 Despite how he is portrayed in the show, I refuse to believe that Ser Alliser is stupid. He can maybe sell people on Jon's death being due to breaking his vows but killing anyone else, for refusing to open a door of all things is not something you can sell as justice. His grudge was with Jon Snow, not the rest of them. 
> 
> *4 Jon Snow did break his vows, that is a fact. Thorne is arguably justified in killing him for that as the punishment for that crime is death. We can debate if Thorne killed Jon because he hated him (For the Starks aid in usurping the Targaryens?), because he let the wildlings through the wall or because he broke his vows. The latter is the only one that he can admit to publically, whether it's the truth or not. 
> 
> The Night's Watch handling in season six and was completely awful. Thorne made completely illogical decisions entirely motivated by his irrational hatred of Jon Snow that the entire watch just went along with aside from FOUR men. Completely, absurd. Thorne elected himself as Lord Commander without a choosing as a dictator and everyone else just went along with it. Then, Jon came back from the dead, executed the men who killed him all while claiming he was not a member of the Night's Watch anymore which meant that he should not have been able to punish them. To make matters worse, rather than a choosing (Which the show botched up the first time as well) Jon just chose Edd as the next Lord Commander which is not how things work but everyone decided to go along with it. Complete stupidity.
> 
> As this chapter shows the Night's Watch will be much more political in this story. People will manipulate and play word games as they do everywhere else in Westeros, it will not just be rash idiots doing things without considering the consequences like it is in the show. 
> 
> Completely unrelated to this chapter but in the Hardhome episode, the wildlings kill wights without Dragonglass or Valyrian Steel or even fire. It's not just hurting them either because it specifically says in the script "He pins a wight to the gate with Longclaw as Tormund and Karsi kill the wights that have already gotten through. The archers take out the wight Jon pinned to the gate, and then the men cover the hole the wights had been escaping from with a sled. Fighting continues. A group of wights tear into a Crow. Loboda and Karsi continue to kill the wights." They just randomly decided to retcon that wights can be killed through normal means. Too much of my outline is dependent on wights being as invulnerable as walkers to normal means for me to change it to what they originally said but just wanted to point it out. Only white walkers are unkillable.
> 
> Also on an even more unrelated note but how do D&D not know how many kingdoms their are? They wrote the show for eight seasons and never learned one of the most basic aspects of the world? The North seceding still leaves seven, arguably eight kingdoms if the Iron Islands are their own kingdom like implied in the show. The seven Kingdoms are a traditional name from when Aegon conquered, before Dorne not the actual number of kingdoms. Bran is still king of the Seven Kingdoms, not six. 
> 
> Next chapter we go back to Daenerys and dive what has been happening in Meereen in her absence. The next chapter is another long one.


	6. Daenerys II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys addresses what happened in her absence from Meereen and tries to save her city.

Daenerys wanted nothing more than to bathe and have a proper meal after her journey through the wilderness with her dragons but she, unfortunately, had other responsibilities she needed to take care of. Tyrion Lannister had been given run of the city in her absence and things were in a very similar state to where they had been when she left which was to say- not good. The Harpies were more aggressive than ever during her absence. Every night they would wake up to find dead men- slaves turned free men and her unsullied. The city was in chaos and there was very little Daenerys could do to keep it together. 

As bad as things were in Meereen though, they were a thousand times worse outside her walls. Astapor and Yunkai had both fallen back into the hands of the masters. All those people she had freed from captivity were now back in slavery or dead. Her heart bled for them but she couldn't do a thing to help them- she could barely even hold Meereen. If she failed to hold three cities then how would she ever handle seven kingdoms?

“Your Grace, One of my little birds may have found for me who's been funding the Sons of the Harpy,” Lord Varys said to her in his soft velvety voice. He had apparently served as Master of Whispers for her father and the Usurper along with his son Joffrey. He was a rather plump individual who smelled of Lavender and didn’t have a single hair anywhere on his body. He had the kindest voice like honey to draw any unsuspecting creature into his trap. 

He had served as Master of Whispers for three kings who had all been murdered by members of their own court and had changed his loyalty numerous times to whomever he thought was best fit to rule. Despite him helping Tyrion escape, she had to agree with Ser Barristan. Varys was not to be trusted at all but he was useful. She had only just met him as he showed up in Meereen while she was gone but Tyrion had decided to let him into her council. 

“Enlighten us.” She ordered of him.

“The good masters of Astapor. And the wise masters of Yunkai. With help from their friends in Volantis.” He replied. “If my source is to be believed they fear that the dragon queen will turn to them next if they do not end your threat now. They are most eager for you to return to Westeros so the slave trade can resume here in slavers bay.” 

Daenerys nodded to herself that made sense, they had always wanted her gone. They had even offered her ships to return to Westeros if she were to give them back Meereen. Before she had gone to Astapor and saw the horrible treatment of their slaves she would have jumped at such an offer but now she could not leave her people to suffer. 

“We conquered Asatapor and Yunkai once. We will do it again and execute the Masters.” Greyworm said. His voice as always gave no hint of his emotions. He, like all the unsullied, had been trained to have no feelings- or as Daenerys was quickly discovering to not show any emotion, they still did have feelings. 

“That would be treating the symptoms, not the disease. If the Unsullied march off to reconquer Asatapor and Yunkai, who remain to defend the free people of Meereen?” Tyrion argued. “We can not expect to hold Meereen if our army is Astapor. We would be completely vulnerable to attack from the Harpies.” 

The dwarf of House Lannister was an odd fellow. His brother had murdered her father, he might have been mad and needed to die but Ser Jamie was sworn to protect him, someone else should have done it. His father had served as hand to her father for a time and was as evil as her own father. He had ordered the death of her good-sister, along with her niece and nephew. Her niece was only three when she had slaughtered and her nephew was not even two yet. His sister had married the Usurper and according to Tyrion was a vile evil woman. Tyrion was unlike his family, and had killed his own father. She didn’t trust him yet but she valued his counsel. He was extremely intelligent and knew the Houses of Westeros better than she or even Ser Barristan did. 

“We cannot do nothing.” Greyworm insisted. “If we do not fight them, how can we stop them?” He might not give any clue in his voice but Daenerys knew he was frustrated by his words. 

“We cannot. The Masters only speak one language. They spoke it to me for many years. I know it better than my mother tongue. If we want them to hear us, we must speak it back to them. May it be the last thing they ever hear.” Missandei declared. She rarely gave her opinion without being directly asked and it was very clear how strongly she felt about this issue.

“If we answer in violence then how can we expect them not to do the same?” Ser Barristan interjected. “All we would be doing is contributing to an endless cycle. I’ve seen this happen too many times before, death and revenge only leads to more death.”

Ser Barristan was probably the most trusted of her advisors and was her sworn shield. He had experience serving with and sitting on the counsel of three kings- the latter two were awful kings but he had learned from their mistakes and she would learn from him. He had already nearly died once already, defending her city from the sons of the Harpy and had been bedridden for weeks afterward. He would likely never be able to fight again, he needed a cane to walk now and was easily fatigued. Daenerys was planning on naming him her hand when they returned to Westeros. She might have to do that sooner, in case she got called away from Meereen again. 

Tyrion was the one who spoke next. “Which is why we do not go to war. We take hostages from all the Masters. A child from each family to ensure their compliance, there is little more powerful than a parent’s love for their child. If they step out of line we execute their child.” He explained.

Daenerys was horrified and glared at him. “I will not butcher children.” She declared firmly. She would stand by that and not be moved. She refused to be a monster like her father or the Usurper. Children were innocent of their father’s crimes and should not be punished for them.

Tyrion was stubborn. “You would likely only have to execute one before they take the threat seriously and stop endangering them by working with the sons of the harpy.”

“I will not butcher any child, they are innocent. I will not punish a child for their father's sins.” She repeated firmly with a glare at him, daring him to oppose her decision. 

Tyrion frowned but nodded his acceptance. He turned to Varys. “Tell me, can the little birds get a message to the good Masters of Astapor, the Wise Masters of Yunkai, the benevolent enslavers of Volantis?” 

Varys smiled. “Of course. Man can be fickle but birds always trust.”

Tyrion nodded once again looking back at her. “Perhaps we should meet with the masters and negotiate for peace.” 

“What can you offer? Masters want slavery back.” Greyworm countered. Daenerys privately agreed with him but she knew it wasn’t yet her place to say anything. She would hear what her council had to say before making a decision as her saying something would be seen as final and the idea would be dropped. 

“The Masters are not evil people,” Tyrion stated causing everyone to stare at him with wide eyes and an open mouth. “They do not want slavery because they enjoy causing people pain- while most of them,” he added with a dry laugh. “They want slavery because it makes them lots of money and they spent money to buy those slaves. We simply have to show them that there are other ways they can make just as much money.” 

“And how would we do that?” Daenerys asked with a raised eyebrow.    
  


He took a long drink from his goblet of wine and reached for the pitcher to refill his cup before speaking. “We seize the assets of all the masters who have died serving the Sons of The Harpy. Offer to pay all the freed slaves personally who take jobs as free men under the Masters. Slowly decrease the percentage we pay by say- 20% each year and raise the minimum wages. Within five years the Masters will be paying all of their workers a fair wage.” 

“The Masters will not agree to pay ever. They will not treat workers fairly. They cannot be trusted.” Greyworm argued. 

“Wars are expensive, they would lose more by waging war on us- on hiring companies of Sellswords to fight for them.” Tyrion smiled and took another long drink of his wine. “We do not need to trust them to work with them. There will be rules regarding the treatment of their workers, if they violate them they will lose all their lands, titles and money. They would not risk themselves just to abuse their slaves.” 

Daenerys stood up from her chair raising her hand to ask for silence. “We will try Lord Tyrion’s plan.” She looked over to Varys who looked positively delighted. “Send your birds to Yunkai and Astapor with a message summoning the leaders of each of the Masters to Meereen to discuss peace.”

“Not Volantis, Your Grace?” Varys asked. “They too are funding the Sons of the Harpy.” 

She shook her head. “Not Volantis. Send word to them separately, let them know that if they cut all of their funding of the Sons of The Harpy then I will let them be in peace.” _The for now part of her statement went unsaid._ She swallowed nervously. She didn’t want to do this- she hated letting them do this but she knew they couldn’t go to war with Volantis- it was the richest of the three cities that they were warring with and fighting them was too risky. She needed to be smart. “For now, I will let them continue their slave trade just not with my cities.” 

She heard a sharp intake of breath from Missandei. Missandei felt betrayed by her decision. As a former slave herself, she was very much against allowing slavery to continue in any form. They had mistreated her even as a child and she had two brothers in the unsullied- one of whom had been killed by the Sons of The Harpy. She wanted revenge and to liberate others. 

“You are dismissed. Missandei stay behind.” She commanded the room and they all rushed to obey. Tyrion clearly drunk staggered a bit as he exited. 

“Your Grace-” Missandei started to say but Daenerys raised her hand and she trailed off.

“You disagree with my decision.” Daenerys addressed her. It was a statement, not a question. 

She nodded. “I do. They can’t be trusted. They betrayed you before, this killed your men and you’re letting them off free. You’re even letting Volantis keep their slaves. We should just kill all the Masters, the world would be better off for it.” She was passionate, her voice filled with an edge Daenerys had rarely seen from her before. 

“I do not trust them and I don’t plan on letting them off free. We can only hold Yunkai and Astapor if they don’t have the support of Volantis. If Volantis feels they are safe then they will not aid them. I want to end slavery in all of the world…” Daenerys explained trailing off wistfully. “That is not practical, once I reclaim my throne in Westeros I will return and end slavery in all of Essos as well. I do care for their plight but I have to be smart about this. I cannot fight a war on two fronts.” 

“I understand, Your Grace,” Missandei replied with a slight bow of her head. Good Daenerys thought to herself. She’s not happy about it but she’ll accept it. She could work with that.    
  
-

Her bath had been splendid. She had ordered the water to be so hot that it was nearly boiling and had lingered there until the water had gone lukewarm. The pond Rhaegal had taken her to had been wonderful but the water was freezing and the sun was hot beating down on her head- it wasn’t the same. 

She laid back on the edge of her lavish bed and sighed in contentment. After sleeping on the hard ground for the last fortnight being on something soft was wonderful. She missed Daario, he and Ser Jorah had gone out looking for her to bring her home so they weren’t here when she returned. She really needed a good fucking but her partner was nowhere to be seen. She didn’t love Daario but he was a good lover- better than her husband had been and she liked having someone in her bed with her. 

She stood up and slipped on a bathrobe not bothering to tie it shut. She needed some fresh air and a drink to clear her head. She stepped out onto the balcony and looked out at the city below. The city was quiet at night, many families locked themselves inside too scared of the Sons of The Harpy to leave their homes. Daenerys hated it, her city was suffocating and she was almost helpless against it. She had dragons and an army but somehow they still hadn’t been enough to stop the Harpies reign of terror. 

She felt a prodding at her lower back and turned around to see Rhaegal’s head looking at her from the pyramid he was wrapped around- still after she had dropped him off. He was clearly happy to see her. She stroked his head with her soft hands and smiled at him before sitting in a lounge chair and placing his head on her lap. He purred in contentment as she pet him. 

Perhaps it was just the ability to confide in someone who couldn’t betray her or the need to talk to someone but she told him of her day. She had told him so much already of her but she enjoyed spending time with at least one of her children, the dragons growing up and away from her had been hard for her. Having Rhaegal happily come to her and cuddle with her, seemingly listening as she told him stories was wonderful and a dream come true. 

“Missandei disagreed. She thinks I should take all the Harpies and execute them and all of the masters. The Harpies and their stupid gold masks are tearing apart my city, the Targaryens have always been about fire and blood. Vengeance. But I do not innocents to be caught in the crossfire, I don't want to cause a civil war by doing so. Am I being weak by trying to find peace?” She asked her dragon not expecting a reply. 

Rhaegal surprised her yet again and lifted his head off her lap to shake it side to side as if saying no before putting his head back on her lap. Did he really understand her? Surely that was impossible. She stood to her feet and Rhaegal growled lowly in displeasure. 

“Kostagon ao shifang nyke?” She asked of him in Valyrian. He looked at her obviously confused and made no sign of having understood what she was saying. It had been foolish to think that he could. Still, her stories she had told him were in the common tongue so she asked again in that language. “Can you understand me?” She asked, speaking slowly so he could understand better. 

Rhaegal actually bobbed his head up and down. Daenerys laughed in disbelief, surely she was going as mad as her father. For some reason, she asked him again.

“Are you nodding intentionally?” Another nod answered her question. “Shake your head no” He did so at her command. Somehow Rhaegal actually understood what she was saying. She laughed and hugged his head to her chest. Turns out, dragons are extremely intelligent- not dumb beasts like most the books said. They were the most intelligent animal she had ever seen. 

-

Daenerys woke up to the sound of a man screaming. She stood up and threw a robe on as Greyworm burst into her room. Ser Barristan came hobbling in behind him and not long after came Lord Tyrion and Varys. 

The sound had come from her balcony and had since gone quiet. Daenerys walked over to the balcony but found her path impeded by Ser Barristan. “Let Greyworm go first, it might not be safe.” He warned her and she grit her teeth but nodded to show her acquiescence. 

Greyworm came back inside less than a minute later. “Your Grace, you should come see, it’s your dragon.” He told her, his face like always giving her no hint of the problem. 

She stepped onto the balcony and nearly vomited. There was a pile of bodies- human bodies ripped apart- some of them in half and leaning over them was Rhaegal who was eating one man’s entrails. Some of them were burnt beyond all recognition, their skin torn in a number on places. She looked at Rhaegal and looked up from his meal. He looked triumphant and he seemed to be trying to tell her to be proud of him. 

She was horrified. “R-Rhaegal why? Why would you..” She trailed off in disbelief. Only a few hours ago he had been intelligent and she had cuddled with him. He could understand her. What had happened?   
  
He snorted, black smoke coming out of his nostrils. He nudged the corpse he had been eating and turned it over so she could see the other side. On his face there was a golden mask, he was one of the Sons of the Harpy. 

She turned to Greyworm. “Turn over all of them so I can see their faces.” There was no way Rhaegal had actually strategically hunted all of the Harpies, right? Yet when he complied and all four dead men were flipped over they all had golden masks on. 

She looked back at Rhaegal still stunned and patted his head. “Good boy, you are so incredibly smart.” She looked at the bodies once more. “Thank you, Rhaegal.” 

“Your Grace?” Ser Barristan asked not knowing what to say. No one did, this was a completely unprecedented situation. 

“Rhaegal found the Harpies and stopped their attacks. I will not punish him for executing traitors.” She said before glancing at their bodies again. “They got what they deserve. Find someone to clean up this mess.” 

“This is madness, you can not be okay with this! Burning people alive and ripping people limb from limb will never be okay.” Tyrion Lannister argued. She wasn’t sure when he had followed them outside. She also wasn’t sure why he had an issue with this, he had done the same in defense of King's Landing according to Varys. The same person who wanted to poison all of King’s Landing. This seemed extremely hypocritical of him. 

She looked at him coldly and then back at the bodies. “They got what they deserve,” She repeated to him before turning away to head back inside leaving her advisors there staring after her. 

She walked back inside but rather than go back to bed she instead went back out through the exit with two unsullied coming with her as guards. She had something she needed to do and sleep would not come easy after that gruesome sight. She agreed that it was a good thing for Rhaegal to kill the Harpies but seeing a pile of bodies on her doorstep would never not be alarming. 

Once she was outside she called out to Rhaegal with a shrill whistle and he came to her immediately flying over her head. She smiled, it was nice to have one of her children so obedient and caring. It was time to get her second child back.

She walked towards the pit where she had chained her dragons. That had been a mistake, Dragons are not dogs they do not belong in chains. They are kings and they deserve to be free, they do not kneel to any man. 

Rhaegal landed beside her as she gestured for the guards to roll the stone away from the entrance. He hissed at her, he was scared and did not want to return. He fluttered his wings making to leave and Daenerys touched his head. “I will not chain you again. Ever. We’ve come to free your brother.” She whispered to him. He calmed down instantly and sat down to wait for her.

“You are not to interfere or enter after me under any circumstance, no matter what you see or hear.” She commanded the unsullied who were guarding the place and her person. 

She turned away from Rhaegal and slowly descended the steps down into the dark, a torch in her hands. She was engulfed by fire, flames surrounded her and the heat was unpleasant. But she was a dragon and dragons cannot be killed by fire so she pressed on through her sons rage and his breath of death.

She placed her hand on Viserions’s snout even as he continued to roast her. “Shh.” She whispered soothingly. “I’ve come to free you.” 

He finally stopped trying to roast her but still glared at her as she moved to his side. She gently caressed his bone-white head, it was hard as a rock and there was little in the way of flesh over his bones. She could see his skeleton underneath his scales, he had always been thinner and more bony then his brothers but he was unhealthily frail and looked half dead. She had done this to him, she had chained him for Drogon’s crime. Not for the first time, she raged at Drogon for his behavior. He had always been the problem child of the bunch, the one with attitude yet he was her bonded. She loved Rhaegal more than anyone but she knew it was Drogon she was destined to ride despite his abandonment of her in the Dothraki sea. 

Still keeping one hand on Viserion’s head she used the other hand to push the pin down and slid it out of the collar. The moment the collar fell off his neck, Viserion dashed outside. He moved quick enough that his hard scales cut open the hand she had placed on his head. 

She followed him out of the pit at a much slower pace. She was naked now. Her robe was completely incinerated by Viserion. The cold night’s air cut at her bare skin causing her to shiver. She stepped outside and looked up to see Rhaegal and Viserion circling above her.

They appeared to be fighting about something, likely her. Viserion shot fire at Rhaegal and the two growled at each other for some time before Viserion flew off somewhere to the northwest of Meereen and Rhaegal descended back down to her. 

She smiled at Rhaegal. “Thank you for explaining things to him. I never should have chained you in the first place.” He nuzzled his head into her hand and purred happily. 

-

Daenerys was tired of telling people that Rhaegal was safe and wouldn’t eat them. After last night’s incident, all of her petitioners seemed to be people who were scared they would be eaten by him as well. The Masters begged her to kill her dragons or send them away from here for they did think it was safe. Some had dared to call their friends who Rhaegal had killed good innocent men who did not deserve such a cruel fate. She had made it very clear to everyone that Rhaegal would only attack the Sons of The Harpy and every person he brought to her had been wearing the golden mask of the Harpies. 

She had just told a particularly vindictive master the same tale. One of the men Rhaegal had mutilated was his father apparently. He had come demanding justice and left with his pants soiled after she had calmly explained to him that his father deserved to die for his crimes and that if he followed in his father’s footsteps then he would find himself also dead. She waved her hand to bring in the next petitioner. 

In walked a young woman; probably not even yet twenty and a small boy who was maybe three clinging to her hand. She had frizzy brown hair and was almost all skin and bones. The boy she presumed was her son had more aristocratic features, darker straight hair, and a sharp jawline. He too was very haggard. Their faces were gaunt and it was clear to her they were struggling to find enough food to eat. They wore simple sack clothes on their body with arm holes cut in them and an open bottom just above their knees. These were obviously citizens of what had been the lower class. Former slaves. 

Missandei greeted them and stood. “You stand before Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and Meereen.” At first, they had used her full list of titles every time a petitioner came forth but it had been ineffective. Many of the former slaves who petitioned her became too intimidated to actually ask what they came for after hearing all her titles and many more would prostrate themselves before her and worship her. She had told Missandei to use the shortened titles unless Missandei felt the situation warranted the full version. Most of the time, it would be the short version for the free men and the longer version for the Masters. 

“Her Magnificence..” The women trailed off clearly trying to hold back tears. 

Daenerys sighed another person scared of her dragons. “I assure you Rhaegal will only hurt the Sons of The Harpy. He was only hunting down criminals. Your son is perfectly safe.” She assured the woman, gesturing for her to be brought out and the next petitioner brought in. 

“M-my former master had k-killed my husband.” She said in bastard valyrian her eyes downcast refusing to look up. Her voice was shaking and it was obvious this was still a very recent thing that still hurt. “He h-had my son…” She trailed off again. “He had s-stripped me and planned to r-rape me and m-murder my s-son while I watched.” 

The son interjected. “Then the dragon swooped in and took the bad man away!” He exclaimed happily making a swooping motion with his hand that wasn’t clinging to his mother. 

The mother nodded, still refusing to look up at her. “We came to thank you and your dragon. W-without it my son would be dead.” She sobbed uncontrollably. 

Daenerys smiled. This was a welcome change. It was reassuring to know that Rhaegal had targeted actually terrible people and not just people in gold masks. Someone other than her appreciated what Rhaegal had done, even her advisors weren’t happy with how brutal he was; Lord Tyrion especially. She stood from the bench she had been sitting on for the last couple of hours. “How would you and your son like to meet Rhaegal and thank the dragon personally?”

The son nodded eagerly and jumped up and down. “Can we mama? Please oh please!” 

“Your Grace, I’m not sure-” Ser Barristan interjected. 

She held up a hand and he fell silent. “I trust Rhaegal, he won’t hurt them.” 

Lord Tyrion spoke against it next. “I’m not sure it’s safe either.” She held up a hand for him to stop but he ignored her. “Dragons only respect those of Valyrian descent, it’s possible he becomes hostile when faced by someone with common blood.” 

She frowned at him. “Thank you for your input, Lord Tyrion. But I trust Rhaegal to behave himself.” Her voice had an edge to it, warning him not to speak against her again.

“Lady..” She trailed off asking for the woman’s name. 

“Mara, Your Magnificence.” She replied. 

“And your son?” 

“Tyto.”

“Would you Lady Mara and your son, Lord Tyto like to visit Rhaegal with me?” She offered again and this time none of her advisors spoke against her. Tyto puffed up his chest at being called a Lord and strutted around like a peacock before falling over. Daenerys couldn’t help but let out a small giggle at the sight.

Her son got up and ran to his mother and tugged on her arm, begging her to let them go. “If it pleases Your Magnificence, we would like that very much.”    
  


Danaerys smiled and told them to follow her. They did so although her Unsullied guards tailing them. She went to her rooms where she had just assumed Rhaegal would be still perched on the pyramid. “Come,” she beckoned to them as they entered the room. 

She walked out onto the balcony that was now cleaned up from the bloody mess that Rhaegal had made there last night. She looked up and was happy to see him still on the pyramid, perched above her balcony, with his eyes closed, he was clearly dozing right now. “Rhaegal!” She called to him, if he waked then great, if not they could see him sleeping, it was probably safer anyway. 

Rhaegal’s head shot up and he dove his head down to her placing it at her chest. She gently stroked the side of his head before gesturing to Mara and Tyto to come out. She kept her hand on Rhaegal’s head to calm him as he growled briefly. “This is Lord Tyto and Lady Mara.” She explained to him never ceasing her stroking. “They came to thank you for saving them last night.” 

Lady Mara gave a bow and Rhaegal preened. She thanked him and seemingly losing interest he turned back to her rubbing his head into her bosom. 

Tyto reached out to touch Rhaegal and his mother smacked his hand away, scolding him. Rhaegal hissed letting out small puffs of smoke. “Don’t touch him Tyto, it’s not safe.” She hissed at him. 

Daenerys smiled and Rhaegal looked away from her to look at him. She crouched down next to Tyto and grabbed his hands. “Do you want to pet Rhaegal?” She asked him and he nodded eagerly. She looked back at the mother who reluctantly gave a small nod as well. 

She picked Tyto up with one arm cradling him to her chest so he could reach Rhaegal. Rhaegal lowered his head and rubbed it into her unoccupied shoulder so he could pet him and he did. “It’s hot.” He said as he quickly pulled his hand away. 

She nodded. “My brother told me that dragons are fire made flesh.” That was back before Viserys went mad- back when he had been a good brother. She had been as little as Tyto back then. 

“Thank you, Lord Dragon,” Tyto said as he resumed his petting of the dragon with a shy smile. 

“His name is Rhaegal.” Daenerys laughed at that- the innocence of a child. Her own Rhaego would have been about as old as Tyto is now. He was dead, never born because she had made the mistake of trusting a witch doctor. It should have been Rhaego, not Tyto who she was holding as he pet Rhaegal. She would never have children of her own now. 

She set Tyto down and spoke with a heavy voice. “I’m afraid I have other business to attend to. My unsullied will show you out.” 

“What do you say.” Mara hissed at Tyto.

“Thank you Lady Daneriesis.” He butchered her name horribly and while only a few minutes ago she would have laughed that; she instead grimaced. Rhaego should have been the one struggling to say her name. She watched blankly without saying a word as they exited the room and the unsullied escorted them outside the temple. 

Rhaegal as if sensing the change in mood looked at her, notably concerned and butted his shoulder with his head. 

She took a moment to gather herself before going back to the throne room to answer more petitions. For the next few hours, she had spent them much the same as she had before Mara and Tyto had come. She had told people that Rhaegal was safe and would only hunt the masters more times then he could count. She had told people that she wouldn’t punish Rhaegal for killing murderers even more. There were a few common squabbles, things like disputes between a master and a freeman over who should profit from the masters selling off the wares the former slave had made for them while in the masters employ. She had let Lord Tyrion and Ser Barristan handle that one. For the most part, however, they were just about Rhaegal. 

When all of her petitioners were gone for the day she rushed back to the privacy of her room. She had sent both her handmaidens away along with Missandei in order to be alone. She poured herself a glass of wine and sat down on her balcony. Rhaegal’s head was in her lap instantly, comforting her.

“I lied when I said I named you after my brother Rhaegar.” She spoke softly to the dragon, she wasn’t sure why she was telling him this- perhaps she just needed to speak to someone and she was a Queen she couldn’t confide in anyone like she wanted to. She was a Queen and a Queen had to be strong at all times- couldn’t show weakness to anyone. “I lied to myself as well. I didn’t name you after Rhaegal but Rhaego. My son.”    
  


She took a long sip from her glass of wine. “Rhaego was to be my son with Khal Drogo. The Stallion that mounts the world they called him, the Dothraki were going to cross the poison water for him. To give him the Iron Throne.” She took another drink.

“I was a fool. My Moon and Stars was hurt in a fight and...” She was crying now as she rubbed the top of Rhaegal’s head. “I had stopped a girl, Mirri Maz Durr from being raped by my Khalasar.” She spat with extreme venom. “I thought she was trying to help, to repay me. She offered to heal my Khal.” She sighed and took another drink. “I was a fool. She didn’t heal him but killed him.” 

“When he was dying I trusted her again.” The words were just tumbling out of her mouth now along with her tears. She had never truly gotten over this. She knew she never would. “She promised to save my Moon and Stars with a sacrifice.” She smiled bitterly. “I gave her my horse, my Silver that Drogo had given me for our wedding. To the Dothraki, there was nothing more cherished than their stallion.” 

“She took my baby, my precious Rhaego as her price. For only death can pay for life.” Daenerys proclaimed to Rhaegal. “My baby was stillborn, hideous with scales, the tail of a lizard and the wings of a bat. Filled with grave worms as if he had been dead for years.” She wept. “My Moon and Stars lived but not really. He was a shell. He could not talk or ride a horse. He could not feel, he was a corpse, not a man.” She wiped away her tears and took another drink from her wine. “I killed him myself. I smothered him with my own pillow.”  _ If I look back I am gone.  _ She had told herself that for so long yet she couldn’t stop herself from looking back now. 

“The witch gave me a prophecy,” She recalled. “When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. Then he will return, and not before.” She squeezed her wine glass and stopped her stroking of Rhaegal instead just resting her hand on his crown. “I will never have children of my own. It should have been my Rhaego here, not Tyto who was meeting you.” She snarled.

“I got that bitch back. I burnt her alive for her crimes.” Daenerys chuckled to herself. “She was calm and accepting of her death when the fire started but in the end she screamed, the fire always makes them scream. She died on the funeral pyre with my Moon and Stars and my dragon eggs. I walked into the fire and came out with three dragons.” 

“I named all three of you for Rhaego. Drogon was named after his father who gave him to me. Viserion after the brother who made me realize just how much I loved Rhaego. He threatened to kill Rhaego and I watched as he died by a crown of molten gold. I did not feel any sadness for he had threatened my son.” She smiled a sad smile and resumed her caressing of Rhaegal’s head. “I named you for my darling Rhaego, the son that was lost to me. For the longest time, I thought that the witch’s death bought me my dragons but I was wrong. I wasn’t the first person to burn people alive in an attempt to hatch a dragon. It was my darling Rhaego’s sacrifice that was the price I paid for my dragons. A mother willingly sacrificing her children was the cost.”

She laughed and emptied the last of her wine glass. The glass dropped to the floor. “My children were born of Fire and Blood; as the witch said only death can pay for life.” 

Daenerys lifted Rhaegal’s head off of her lap and went back inside to go to sleep. When she awoke in the morning, Rhaegal was not there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So quite a few things happened in this chapter. Ser Barristan is not dead in this, his cannon death was a disgrace and completely needless. He is crippled because I have other plans for him than simply being Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and there should still be consequences of the Harpy attack but he is not dead. (Yet)
> 
> I don't like the proposed solution for dealing with the rebellious masters, at all in fact but there has to be some compromise. Bringing Slavery back is more stupid than abolishing it in one day was and there has to be some give on both sides in a proposed deal to avoid war. Obviously Daenerys is very big on not punishing children for the sins of their father and by seizing the assets of all convicted Harpies she is doing just that but there is no good moral alternative. 
> 
> Jon does not know Valyrian now that he is Rhaegal, only the specific commands she taught Rhaegal. Jon does not speak Valyrian in this story, except maybe way later on if he decides to learn. 
> 
> Yeah, Tyrion is a hypocrite that might just be my frustration bleeding through. We'll understand more of his actions and what causes such a bipolar personality in him when we eventually get to the first Tyrion chapter at like chapter 20. 
> 
> We know Daenerys is brutal. Despite what the oh so moral northerners and randomly Tyrion would have you believe that is a normal thing in war. The war against the Harpies is a war by all accounts. The Harpies do deserve to die and she won't ever apologize for their deaths. Daenerys doesn't want innocents caught in the crossfire but she has never had any qualms about hurting the people who are guilty. Being brutal and savage does not mean mad or evil. (And both are theoretical constructs that don't actually exist) 
> 
> Jon Snow would obviously prefer not to be so brutal in dealing with the Harpies- probably. Jon is not a Stark anymore and he can not do anything other than savagely kill the Harpies. He doesn't speak Valyrian so he can't spy on them, even if he could he couldn't tell her what he finds. He is a dragon (literally) and by nature, Dragons are brutal beasts who enjoy killing and burning. Jon would obviously never do nothing when he could help so he kills the Harpies that he finds on the streets that night. 
> 
> There is zero chance Daenerys is the first Targaryen to try human sacrifice to awaken dragons. In the books, we see that human sacrifice has power, especially the sacrifice of important people and willing sacrifices. That will be a re-occuring theme of this story. 
> 
> I honestly when I first read Rhaegal's name had forgotten about Rhaegar ever existing and thought she named him after Rhaego. 
> 
> Next chapter we get the beginning of what should be a better Dorne plot than the show and should be a somewhat original take on Dorne's story as a whole with Jamie's first chapter of the story. 
> 
> Read and Review. If we reach 100 Kudos on this before next Tuesday I'll post an additional chapter this week.


	7. Jamie I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Start of a new, hopefully, better Dorne Plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since we passed 100 Kudos on AO3, here's a bonus chapter.

Jamie wasn’t sure what he had been thinking when he had offered to go bring Myrcella home. Perhaps he had wanted to finally be a father to his daughter. Perhaps he had wanted to just make Cersei happy again, the death of Joffrey had broken her. Perhaps he had simply felt useless sitting on the sidelines while everyone else did something. Maybe he had wanted to relive his glory days and without his sword hand felt the need to prove to himself he still had it. Whatever the reason it had been a stupid plan from the start.

He had underestimated how much the Dornish hated the Lannisters, he had been a fool who thought a bag of gold would be enough to buy the mariner’s silence. He had misunderstood the greed of the small folk, they weren’t a lord whose faux honor stopped them from reneging on a deal. They already had gotten their money from Jamie and without the promise of more they had nothing to lose by selling him out. They had likely been rewarded for that by Prince Doran for that as well. 

They had never even reached the Water Gardens, only two days after they arrived in Dorne they had been accosted. Bronn had fought hard but Jamies assumed he had lost, he was without armor as they were trying to blend in and three on one would be a tough ask for anyone even with armor. 

Jamie looked down at his golden hand and cursed it. He had been completely useless, unable to even defeat one woman in single combat. He had been felled with complete ease by a girl with a whip. He was too incompetent without his good hand that he failed to land even one blow against her before he was knocked out. 

Jamie was alone in a dark damp cell now. He had been there for what felt like a moon by now. He had neither seen or heard Bronn during that time, he was probably dead. His only visitor was a mute steward who brought him meals, never answering any of his questions or saying even a single word to him. 

Jamie had been in captivity before when the young fool, Robb Stark had taken him captive. He had been there for eight moons before Lady Catelyn released him and had Brienne escort him back to Kings Landing. He had been treated horribly by the Starks, they had given him little food, kept him shackled the entire time and had not even given him a chamber pot. There were guards on him at all times and he never had a moment alone. 

The Dornish captivity was comparatively a vacation to his time as the Stark’s prisoner. He received three meals a day, and it was not scraps but luxurious fine dining. He wasn’t given silverware with his meals so he had to eat with his hands but he was given a freshly filled water basin every morning to clean himself. He had a chamberpot of his own as well as a bed to sleep on. He was not in shackles at all either, just in a barred cell. 

Jamie wasn’t stupid, he knew that they weren’t treating him so well because they were kinder then Robb Stark. When he was a hostage of the Starks, he was the most feared warrior in all of Westeros and possibly the known world. He was such a danger that he had to be kept weak and in chains or else he would escape. Now he was without his hand and less of a threat than the average squire. 

He could probably escape if he wanted too, they did open the door to his cell when they brought him a fresh water basin and he was sure he could overpower the steward if need be. But what was the purpose? He would be immediately recaptured by the first guard he came across, he would be weaponless and helpless with only one good hand. All escaping would do was cause the death of a steward girl and the wounding of his last bit of pride. 

There were footsteps on the stairs outside his cell, someone was descending them and coming to visit him as he was the only occupant of this particular dungeon. It was a single small room with his cell occupying most of it with bars in place of a wall to stop him from attacking any visitors. He had sworn that his breakfast had been only a short while earlier, maybe an hour or two. Was he receiving an actual visitor? The footsteps were louder than the stewards usually were and there was clacking to the steps. His visitor was likely someone of nobility as the rich favored thick soles on their shoes that did not wear out. 

The door opened and a woman walked in. She was beautiful there was no denying that. Her figure was buxom and she had curves in all the right places. Her skin was olive with a perfectly symmetrical face and dark tempting eyes. Her black hair was thick and long, wavy and hanging loose. She looked like sin incarnate and if it wasn’t for her jewelry he might have believed she was a whore. 

She wore a skin-tight black dress of the finest silk, her neckline was low and teased plenty of cleavage and the skirt was short- not even reaching her knees. She had high heels on her feet, odd for a whore but not entirely impossible. She wore an ornate necklace with rubies hanging on it, one lying directly between her breasts and tempting many eyes. The most important identifying feature for her, however, was the crown on her head. A simple band with only one ruby shaped like the sun resting on her forehead. There was no question who this was, she was the ruling princess of Dorne, Arianne Martell. Her father must have passed recently for when he had left for Dorne it was Prince Doran in power. 

Jamie stood to his feet. “Princess Arianne,” he greeted her with a slight bow. “What brings the ruling Princess of Dorne to visit me?” 

She ignored his greeting and sat on a stool outside his cell. She crossed her legs and Jamie could almost see under her dress. “My dear cousins have a plan to kill Myrcella Baratheon, as vengeance for Prince Oberyn. They want your head as well.” She examined her immaculately cut fingernails and spoke plainly as if she was just discussing the weather not plotting murder. 

“Why tell me this?” Jamie growled lowly. There was no reason for her to share her plans, if she had murdered her father like Jamie was inclined to believe then surely she wasn’t foolish enough to monologue for no reason. She wanted something from him. 

She ignored him. “I have no desire to enter a war with the Crown and let so many Dornishmen die. However, I too desire revenge for Prince Oberyn and I will have that revenge, the only question is how.” Her eyes gleamed and Jamie knew that he would not like her plan at all.

“I do not want revenge against Cersei Lannister but House Lannister. Killing Myrcella, an innocent child would bring me no pleasure but I will do it if need be.” She smiled at him and flashed her sparkling white teeth. “You will leave the Kingsguard and take up your rightful position as Lord of Casterly Rock. You are unfit to protect the King when you can’t even defeat one measly woman.” 

Jamie’s jaw clenched and he balled his good hand into a fist. That defeat irked him and she was only repeating the hard truth that Jamie refused to admit to himself. He was not fit to guard the King. He did not know why she wanted him lording over Casterly Rock but he probably would end up there without her influence anyways, if that was the price to pay for Myrcella’s freedom then he would accept it gladly.

“You will declare Myrcella as your heir and her children will inherit Casterly Rock. House Lannister will die, there might be Lannister blood sitting the Iron Throne and lording over Casterly Rock but they will not go by the Lannister name. House Baratheon and House Martell will reign eternal and no one will remember the Lannister name in history. No one will owe fealty to house Lannister and they’ll have no armies. House Lannister will die with you.” 

“Why on earth would I ever accept that? You expect me to spit upon my father’s grave and give away his legacy? Do you really think I’m selfish enough to value my own life over my house? You’re mad!” Jamie laughed, her plan was completely absurd. 

The Princess smiled at him. “Yes, I expect you will. Tomorrow at the wedding of the Princess Myrcella and Prince Trystane you will share the joyous news that you have left the Kingsguard and are taking up your rightful position at Casterly Rock. You will declare Myrcella Baratheon as your heir in front of all the Lords and Ladies who have traveled to see the wedding of the Princess.” 

Her smile widened and Jamie could see it for the trap that it was. She might look pleasing but only on the outside, she was rotten to the bone, cruel and unfeeling. “If you do not share the news then Myrcella will die at her own wedding.” Jamie tried to hide his reaction to that tidbit but wasn’t sure he was successful.

Still, he tried to hide his true feelings on the matter and appear cold and uninterested in what happened to her. “Why would I ever choose my niece over the rest of my house? You’ve lost your mind, Princess.” 

What she said next made Jamie’s blood run cold. “I find there’s very little a father won’t do for their children.” 

Jamie did a fairly good job of concealing his reaction, only tightening his fist which he didn’t think she noticed. “Those are just rumors, we’re not Targaryens. My sister was faithful to her husband, her children are all trueborn Baratheons.” 

Arianne laughed out loud, both a beautiful and vile sound. “Your sister is being held by the faith until her trial for her infidelity to her late husband King Robert. One of her key witnesses against her is Lancel Lannister.” She explained, talking slowly as if Jamie were a small child. “He testifies that Cersei fucked him while you were held captive, she would moan your name while she did.” 

Jamie wanted to deny it but Tyrion’s parting words to him echoed in his head. “ _ Cersei is a lying whore, she’s been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and probably Moon Boy for all I know.”  _ He knew she and Tyrion were right and it hurt to accept it but he could no longer deny it. Tyrion, the brother who hated him after Jamie finally told him the truth. The brother who had murdered his own father.

Jamie’s jaw clenched, there were worse things in the world than letting his daughter inherit Casterly Rock, right? He couldn’t let her die. He sighed audibly. “Will you permit Myrcella to leave Dorne with me if I declare her my heir?” 

Arianne grinned at him, she knew she had won. “Of course, Myrcella and Trystane would return with you to Casterly Rock. They would be allowed to live out the rest of their days peacefully and safe from harm.” 

Jamie sighed yet again, he really never had any choice in this. He wouldn’t let Myrcella die when he could do something to stop it, he would not lose a kid again before he had even known them. If that meant that the greatness of House Lannister ended with him, that his father Tywin never had a legacy of his own then so be it. House Lannister had a lot of debts for the awful things they had done- that Jamie had done and a Lannister always pays their debts. “Fine, I’ll accept your terms.” He agreed, feeling like he had just made a deal with the devil. By the smile on her face, he probably had. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plan to kill Myrcella never made any sense in the show, was it Cersei Lannister they wanted revenge from? Why? Myrcella wasn't even a Lannister so all the sand snakes did by killing her and the rest of the Martells was destroy Dorne in a civil war and what realistically should have started a war with the crown. Tyrion or Tywin should have been the targets of their wrath or at the very least someone who is actually a Lannister (Like Jamie who they just let leave Dorne). With the insight of Arianne, they choose to cripple House Lannister permanently when Jamie falls into their laps, by stealing their most prized land from the Lannister name forever.
> 
> Would Jamie choose Myrcella over the Lannister name? After losing his first son without having ever known him at the hands of his brother (As he believes) and watching that loss nearly destroy Cersei, it is entirely possible that he would. Jamie is trying to be more honorable and letting an innocent child die for a name is not that. Additionally, Jamie wants to be a father to his remaining children, and having Myrcella as his heir would not be completely awful even if she's not actually a Lannister.
> 
> Jamie is forced to realize that without one hand he can not be an able protector or knight and certainly not kingsguard as he is nowhere near the same warrior now. I think leaving the Kingsguard is a logical character progression for him at this point when he is so easily defeated and realizes her can no longer do his duty even without the blackmail from Arianne Martell. 
> 
> The whole Loras being imprisoned for being gay thing and Cersei on trial for incest is stupid and not actual issues in the books. No one cares about those things in the world of ASOIAF, it was just the TV show trying to bring modern issues in for the sake of the ratings that would plummet if they didn't make incest out as evil. Margaery was imprisoned for the reasons she was in the books, infidelity to Tommen and Cersei was imprisoned for infidelity as well to her late husband. Jamie is not being prosecuted for sleeping with Cersei because the only crime that breaks is oathbreaking since the world of ASOIAF is very sexist and no one cares if he sleeps with a whore. Also because Cersei is not just being prosecuted for fucking him but Lancel, Kettleblack, etc. Men she was not married to. The capital plot will more closely follow that of a Feast for Crows since the show one was completely moronic. 
> 
> In this, the Tysha confession and the ensuing conversation where Tyrion says he murdered Joffrey and Cersei is a whore does in fact happen since it's extremely vital to both of their character arcs and leaving it out was incredibly stupid by the writers. Again more on that when we get the eventual first Tyrion chapter in like chapter 20. 
> 
> Side note: How does Myrcella go from not having yet flowered in season 2 (And in the books at least being 9 years old) to being 19 when she died according to the wiki and not yet being married. When the heck would she be considered old enough? The wikis incredibly impossible one year per season timeline would mean that she was at least 16 when she left and not considered old enough for marriage when Sansa was married at 15 to Tyrion in the same timeline. Yeah, show Timeline is stupid so I'm using the Vandal Proof Book timeline spreadsheet one based on moon positioning described in the books and travel times. So from the start of the saga, it's only been four years, not six and Myrcella has only just turned 14 at this point in the story mostly for the sake of the plot. 
> 
> Next chapter we have another short one with the first chapter of the saga from my least favorite character in the show, Sansa. (Book Sansa/Alayne is great though)
> 
> Read and Review.


	8. Sansa I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa arrives at Castle Black

Chapter 7: Sansa I

Sansa could scarcely believe the talk of the wildlings who were now settled into the gift, a land that had been uninhabited for centuries was now overflowing with the people north of the wall. Savages, who raided, raped, and murdered the northerners for as long as anyone could remember. Those same savages considered Jon to be some sort of god almost. 

All of the wildlings held the Lord Commander Jon Snow in the highest respect after he had apparently saved them from the Others and an army of the dead? Sansa doubted that the dead really had attacked them but Jon had brought them all south of the wall for whatever reason. What mattered wasn’t why he brought them over but that he did and now had an army entirely loyal to him. They could retake Winterfell from the Bolton’s and get back their home. 

They would be arriving at Castle Black within the hour, herself, Brienne, and Podrick. Sansa had never expected to see her first husband’s squire again. She had presumed him dead when he didn’t testify at Lord Tyrion’s trial but apparently Ser Jaime Lannister had given him to Brienne to go find her and her sister and protect them. Podrick was still a bit shy and not very talkative but he was growing into his own person and at least trying to learn to fight for himself now. He was someone Sansa could trust to always tell her the truth, not just because he was an honest person but because he was an awful liar. 

Lady Brienne isn’t really a lady- she is brutish, big and ugly with no interest in finding a husband. Brienne was everything the stories said about knights even if she wasn’t officially one. She follows through on her word even when her task seems impossible. She actually cares about defending the innocent and protecting the weak. She is gallant and strong. She had stayed loyal to the Stark women even after they had all rejected her services. Brienne was a lot like Arya was and apparently they had found her in the company of the hound last year but had since lost her. A few moons ago she had thought herself to be the last trueborn Stark but now it was at least possible that Bran, Rickon, and Arya were all still amongst the living. 

It was an odd experience for Sansa to have someone loyal exclusively to her, like Brienne supposedly was. She had thought Ser Dontos was that person but she had been wrong, he had been a puppet to Lord Petyr Baelish; to murder the King and smuggle her out with him to the Vale. She had thought Lord Baelish was acting in her best interests and cared for her but he had sold her to the Bolton’s to further his own agenda. He had wanted her to poison Lord Ramsay and take control of Winterfell and the north by extension from within in the name of their child, a union between Bolton and Stark, a child that neither northernman nor southerner would be able to contest their claim to being the Warden of The North. He had grossly overestimated the freedom she would have with Ramsay as her husband and underestimated the cruelty she would endure. She was glad his plan would never bear any fruit. There was no one she could truly trust to put her first always except for herself. 

_ And Jon  _ her mind traitorously whispered to herself. She wanted to trust her brother she really did but why would he put her interests first after how she had always treated him as children like he was the lowest of dirt. She was terrified to meet with him today; he would be perfectly justified to return her to her  _ darling  _ husband. That’s what would be expected by the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. They were sworn to take no part in the wars of man. She didn’t think he would- he had hosted Stannis’s army and provided them with food and supplies for almost a whole year after all. But still- she couldn’t trust anyone but herself.

Even if she couldn’t let herself trust him, she was still excited to see her brother again. She hadn’t seen him in almost three years and the last time they actually had a conversation with each other had been at least twice that. She hadn’t even said farewell to him in Winterfell when he left to the wall and her to Kings Landing. To Sansa, Jon was always just the bastard. The shame of House Stark. She had let her mother poison her opinion of him without any justification. She barely even remembered what he looked like. In her head, she often pictured him as a younger version of their father, with his grey eyes and brown mousy hair.

“They killed the Lord Commander and expect us to do nothing to retaliate?” She heard a voice hiss. She couldn’t tell who said it, drowned out as it was in a sea of noise. 

“We are not fucking kneelers!” A woman proclaimed loudly. “We avenge our fallen!” 

Sansa pulled hard on the reins of her horse forcing it to a stop. She turned the horse towards the large cluster of people that the voice had come from. 

“Lady Sansa,” Brienne called after her as she ventured away from Castle Black and towards the gathering. “We’re almost to the Castle- probably a half-hour away at this point. Where are you going?”

Sansa ignored her as another voice added their own complaints. “Snow saved our lives and those fuckers killed him, we should return the favor!” A man called out from the crowd and cheers answered his declaration. 

Sansa dismounted from her horse and pushed her way through the crowd, caring very little about who she shoved out of the way. They couldn’t be talking about Jon. They had to be talking about someone else- some wildling commander named Snow. Jon couldn’t have died not now. Not when she was so close to being reunited with him. 

“Jon wouldn’t want this!” A man with a strong eastern accent shouted. “He was trying to make peace with his enemies, we have to be united if we want to win against the Others when they come!”

She rudely shoved people out of the way to see what they were gathered around- praying she would not find her brother’s corpse at the front of the crowd. She shoved a little girl- probably around four years of age to the ground in her rush. She trampled an old man- her boots slamming into his back with a sick crunch. She was surrounded by people all jockeying with her to get to the front of the throng. Yet despite how much shoving and stronger competition there was it was her who stumbled out the front of the congregation; falling on her face with no bodies in front of her to shove off of. 

She didn’t feel like a winner when she saw what they were crowded around. Or rather who. With all the onlookers behind them, there was a group of seven at the front. Four of them wore the signature all-black outfits of the Night’s Watch. A fifth wore more noble clothes with an Onion embroidered on his chest- the sigil of House Seaworth, Sansa knew. He too wore a black cloak and black pants but his shirt was a dull grey. He was an older man but still looked to be quite fit. At his hip, he held a sword with a wolf pommel. Unless Sansa was mistaken this was Stannis’s former hand, Lord Davos Seaworth. The sixth person up there was a woman dressed in Red. She had red hair with a golden choker and a ruby on it. If Sansa wasn’t mistaken she was one of the mystical red priests who followed the Lord of Light. The seventh man was obviously a wildling. He was huge with broad shoulders and would rival Brienne even in height. He had a giant red beard and wild untamable red hair. His face was very masculine with hard and high cheeks and a sharp jaw. His appearance completely paled in comparison to that of the man chained to a wooden platform behind him

Lying on the platform was Jon Snow, the only clothing on his body was a metal chain coiled around his chest as if he was going to get up and run away. That was what he had looked like, Sansa remembered upon finally seeing his face again. He had long black hair that naturally curled even in death. He had a thin patch of stubble on his jaw and chin that made him look much older than his seventeen years that she believed he was. His face was haggard and follow with a very sharp jawline. Not at all like she remembered of her father- the hair and maybe the eyes made him look the same from a distance but the similarities were mostly at the surface level. His eyes were narrow and closed and Sansa wanted to pretend he was just sleeping. 

His chest was gruesome and littered with scars. The years had not been kind to him. There were five open wounds on his chest; one was just to the left of his belly button there was small cut, likely made by a small knife, bad but certainly not lethal. On his abdomen, again the left-handed side, directly beneath his rib cage there was another gash. This was the widest of all the scars but also the shortest- the blade that had done that one had stabbed deep. There was a pair of parallel slash marks on his ribs that had likely punctured his lungs. The final open wound was one directly over his heart. A twisted crescent shaped cut that went deep enough to see his ribcage had almost certainly been the blow that ended him. 

Sansa tried to stay strong but it was hard after seeing all her hopes come crashing down. She had needed him to let her stay at Castle Black or more optimally, come with her to take back their home. She could not survive on her own, on the run from Ramsay forever. She had needed to have her brother back- to have some part of her family with her again. Now that was no longer possible. She hadn’t known Jon well enough to truly mourn him. She mourned what he might have become to her, that he was her second chance and what he represented for her not what he was. She mourned that she could not rely on him to help her get her revenge. She could no longer turn to him to claim back her home.

“You’re Sansa Stark, aren’t you?” The man she thought was Davos Seaworth asked her with a heavy southern accent as she laid on the ground staring up at Jon’s body in the wildlings arms. 

She nodded feebly in return. She was crying in earnest now, no longer caring who saw her weakness. 

“Your brother and his wolf died at the hands of his brothers, betrayed by his own men- eight days ago.” The old man explained, his voice shaking with pain at the still very recent memory. “We’ll be doing his burning in about an hour. If you want to say a few words about who he was...” He scratched behind his ear, a nervous tick Sansa knew. That was one of Lord Baelish’s many lessons he had given her. Learning to read deeper into the smallest of actions and movements was a vital skill in the Game of Thrones he had taught her. 

Sansa stood to her feet and looked at Jon’s cold body wrapped in a blanket of snow before turning her gaze back to Davos. “He won’t be burned.” She told him with a tone that conveyed much more confidence than she felt. “He is a Stark, his body belongs in the Winterfell crypts with his ancestors.” 

The red-headed wildling laughed and clapped one of the men of the Night’s watch on the back causing him to stumble into the snow. “We burn our dead here, so they don’t come back.”

Sansa didn’t quite understand what was going on, why they were all so insistent on believing that the dead could come back but she knew a lost cause when she saw one. Besides, it’s not like she could get back into Winterfell in order to bury him any time soon. “Very well. I’ll be there.” 

-

Sansa was shocked at the turnout for Jon’s cremation, she knew he was popular among the wildlings but the crowd that had gathered around his pyre went as fast as the eye could see. There were thousands there to watch him be burned- the majority of them wildlings but there were a few hundred men of the Night’s Watch there as well along with some of the last remnants of Stannis’s army.

Ser Davos had asked her to do the eulogy for Jon but she had declined the offer. She didn’t really know him or who he had become since they all left Winterfell. He had then tried to push the job onto the Night’s Watchman Sansa had learned was Eddison of House Tollett but he had also refused the role citing that he would not be able to stop himself from turning it to a war rally to avenge Jon. The red-headed wildling, Tormund had also declined the offer for similar reasons to Sansa and Edd both. So despite knowing him for little over a year, it was Ser Davos who was giving his eulogy. 

Ser Davos ahemed and the crowd silenced as he stood up from behind the funeral pyre. “We’re here to remember the life of the late Lord Commander, Jon Snow.” He called out to the men and women congregated below. His voice was loud and clear but he wasn’t yelling. “Some of us knew him as the Lord Commander, some as a friend, some as family, and some as a savior.” He looked around the room at the people each one was applicable too when he said it, catching Sansa’s eyes when he said, family. “Some of us knew him our entire lives, some served with him for three years, others- myself included only knew him for a short time. One thing we can all agree on whether we knew him for five minutes or five years is that Jon Snow was a good man.” 

“Jon Snow always had a good heart, he always did what he thought was right regardless of how it would hurt him. Jon Snow always put the needs of everyone else over his own self-interests or personal vendettas.” Sansa knew that people’s goodness was always over-exaggerated at funerals but the little Sansa remembered of Jon a few years back he always was out for others first before himself. When Jeyne had taken to calling Arya  _ Horseface _ for a time, Jon had always distracted Jeyne when Arya was around by doing something that made her insult the bastard instead.

“I can’t claim to know Jon Snow my whole life or even enough to call him a friend but he was a great man. The kind of man whom we should all aspire to be.” It was easy to see why Stannis had appointed Davos as his hand. He had a way with words and a passion in everything that he said that one couldn’t help but be captivated by. 

“Jon Snow never wore a crown or fought for any glory. He fought for the survival of all of mankind. He was the sword in the darkness. He was the watcher on the walls. He was the fire that burned against the cold, the light that brought forth the dawn, the horn that woke the sleepers, the lone shield that guarded all the realms of men. He lived and died at his post. Jon Snow pledged his life to the Night’s Watch for all the nights to come.”

Lord Davos Seaworth lowered his torch to the first column of the pyre. “And now his watch had ended.” The crowd parroted the words back at him- at least the black brothers did, only some of the wildlings partook.

He passed the torch to Eddison Tollett who repeated his words and lit the second column. He handed the torch to Tormund who snapped the same message as he lit the third pyre and held the torch out to her. 

It was Sansa’s turn now, she took the torch from Tormund in her trembling hands. With both hands, she lowered it down to the final column. “And now his watch had ended.” She said softly as she lit the final spike, the crowd echoing her words.

Her brother’s body went up in flames as the oil he had been doused in burned brightly. Her proximity to the blaze caused her tears to evaporate on her cheek with a hiss as they turned into nothing but steam. There was no more denying the truth, Jon Snow was dead and she was once again alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The relationship between Sansa and Jon is so comically over-romanticized by most fans and the show itself. Jon and Sansa don't even say goodbye to each other before Jon leaves for Castle Black and her for Kings Landing. Sansa in the books never even thinks about Jon during her chapters and I'm not sure Jon ever thinks fondly of Sansa either. At this point they're clinging to each other because they're the last Starks* but they never had an ideal relationship and the idea that Sansa would remember much about him is stupid. 
> 
> TV shows and books seem to think that you never forget a face and they instantly recognize people after years of not seeing them and can recall their image perfectly. That's not actually at all how the brain works, seeing someone you've never been close to after years apart you might vaguely recognize their face upon seeing them but most of the details beyond coloring are completely forgotten. People not recognizing Arya is Jeyne in the books is logical because they don't really know each other and as such don't actually remember her face (Or voice).
> 
> I'll be switching to updating bi-weekly now since I'm so far ahead right now so expect the next chapter on Friday. Next up is probably my favorite chapter so far with Arya I and a very original interpretation of the faceless men. 
> 
> Read and Review.


	9. Arya I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite the fact that Arya will be identified as people other than Arya in most of her chapters they will still be titled Arya for organizational purposes.

Once, a girl had dreamed of being a wolf, of hunting with her pack under the light of the moon. Once she had enjoyed the taste of deer in her mouth and howling at the moon when she closed her eyes. A girl once dreamed of a family in the north, of an older brother who she would go riding with. A half-brother who she had played with, a brother who protected and taught her despite the outrage of her Lady mother. Of a little brother, she had always beaten in archery practice. A pretty sister who did needlework and made fun of her, who had gotten her wolf killed. A smaller brother who she had held with a smile. A father who had been good to her and had been executed by the cruel child king. That girl had been given to the Many-Faced God when she gave a man to the Many-Faced God who had not been chosen by him. 

A girl no longer experienced those things. Now when a boy closed his eyes to sleep he would see his father beat him until there were bruises on his dark brown skin. He would wake up and find his pale skin unblemished from the man’s abuse. His smashed face and a broken jaw, smooth and fully functioning. The boy had been killed by his own father as he had asked of the Many-Faced God to end his suffering and abuse so the Many-Faced God had given him what he wished 

A girl would see her brother rape her, his meaty hands untangled in her long blonde hair as he mercilessly thrust himself into her. Hix hips slapping into hers with a loud smack as a girl cried out in pain at the penetration. Day and night she had been raped for years until the girl had gone to the Many-Faced God and given him her life to escape his cruel grip on her. 

Now a girl would cradle her own child dead in her arms, their skull having been smashed by a mountain of a man. Their head an unrecognizable splatter of bone and blood. Her child had been only a year old and he had died so brutally in front of the mother. A girl could feel the woman’s pain the loss of her husband and son. She mourned for them but she did not know them. The woman had taken her own life to be reunited with her family. 

A boy would remember as he had his skin removed from his arms as a man stood over him with a cold knife and a cruel smile. The boy had taken his own life, running into the embrace of the Many-Faced God to get away from the torment the cruel man had inflicted on him. He could still feel the pain of the bitter steel on his tender flesh as he was flayed alive. The man had not had the mercy to let a boy die quickly, he had left him in the cell, torturing him for days on end as he starved. A boy had smashed his skull into the floor until he had died.

A girl remembered life as a whore made to serve the whims of rich white men. She would fake her pleasure as she rode the man until he was spent and then was immediately sent on to another fat man. She would earn her master more than enough money to feed and house herself daily but she would see no coin for her services. She had gone to the Many-Faced God and begged to be free of her master. She had gotten her wish.

A boy remembered his time as a farmer working the land for the rich master who had beat him every time he stumbled or slowed his pace. He remembered the hot sun beating down on him as he slaved away and suffering from heatstroke as the master beat him for not working hard enough. He had begged for death through his sickness and the masters’ cruelty because of it. The Many-Faced God took his life as well and freed him from his torment giving him to the void.

A girl remembered being blind and spending his days on the street begging for coin. A girl would go to bed hungry after her bowl was emptied by a gruff man. A girl would sleep on the stone steps and pray that she was not attacked while she slept. A girl had been raped, helpless to do anything against her attackers. She had been beaten daily until she was on death’s door begging to enter the arms of the Many-Faced God. 

Once a boy had been a rich wise master in Meereen. He had slaves to attend to his every whim and serve him. He had never worked a day in his life, then the Dragon Queen had come. The Dragon Queen had crucified him after he watched as his slaves rebelled against him and killed his wife and children. As she was nailed to that cross in the hot sun, he had begged the Many-Faced God to come for him and free him from his torment. His wish was granted.

Not all of the dreams were horrible, but most of them were. Some of the faces she wore had been happy most of their lives. She remembered being in love with many husbands and wives, she had birthed dozens of children. In all of a girl’s lives, she had died when she begged the Many-Faced God to take her. 

The deaths did not reflect the life that they had lived always, some men died on the battlefield, injured and bleeding out- begging for themselves to hurry up and die to escape the pain, slitting their own throats even to do so. Women died on the birthing bed in complete agony, screaming and in pain begging for their death to deliver them from the pain. The Many-Faced God welcomed them into his embrace as he did everyone who begged for his gift.

Every day a girl would wake and put on a new face. She would live the life of that face for a day, be that as a merchant, an actor, a beggar, a sailor, a janitor, or even a whore. When the day was done she would return to the House of the Black and White to share three things she had learned as that person- never about that person but the people she overheard or spoke too. The people around her were the focus never herself. She was no one. 

When a girl had been given her first face he had been Cat of the Canals. Cat had been a merchant girl, who had sold oysters clams and cockles. She had done so on the docs of the city pushing her cart around offering her wares to the sailors. She had been given her first name by the Many-Faced God and had failed in her task. She was supposed to take the thin man’s life but she had been incapable. She had instead chosen to take the life of a different man, for personal vengeance. 

She had lost that face but the Many-Faced God had given her a second chance, she had been a blind beggar next. She had realized that she was no longer Arya Stark when she was forcefully humbled and made to beg in order to survive. That girl was no longer the daughter of a Lord but a commoner and a blind one at that. When she regained her eyes she hadn’t gone back to being Arya Stark. She was not Cat or the blind beggar either. She was no one. Or at least she had thought she was when the Many-Faced God had let her play the game of faces. 

Every day now a girl would wear a new face and answer three things the girl had noticed during her day wearing the face of another. She would then answer the same series of questions and be smacked by a stick for her answers, no matter what she answered. She had not been given another chance to take a life after the girl had failed her previous chore. Perhaps it was because of her answers or perhaps she was ready and there were no names from the Many-Faced God. 

At first, she had chewed on her lip when she thought and had been hit for that, a habit a girl picked up from when he was Arya Stark but he had stopped that forever ago. Her brow no longer furrowed when she lied nor did her ears redden as Mercy or Thom’s did. She could keep her face perfectly passive and show no outward signs of her emotions. Yet still, a girl was hit for her answers. They were true but they weren’t enough. 

“You have returned to us.” The kindly man wearing the face of the one Arya Stark had called Jaqen H’hgar said in greeting to her as she entered the House of The Black and White.

“The moon is black.” She replied as was their custom, she was not hit for that answer so the boy assumed that it was the correct response. The face she had once worn of a girl named Lysi had told her that it was the Braavosi custom for saying it was past nightfall.

“It is.” He agreed. “What three new things do you know, that you did not know when last you left us?” 

Today a girl had been a boy named Roryn, he was seven years of age. A boy had three sisters and no brothers. His father served as a chef at the local inn and his mother was a maid at the same inn. The boy shared a room with all his sisters and parents, they all shared the same bed even. The boy had prayed to the Many-Faced God to no longer have to share with his family, for a space to call his own. His wish had been granted and now a girl wore the face of Roryn. He was the only one in his grave after all. 

The boy would have been nine now if he had not given to the Many-Faced God, the face he wore was also nine now. Roryn spent the day playing with a sailor’s son named Skyte, a boy of only eight years of age. Roryn and Skyte had played with dolls while Skyte’s father had gotten drunk and lost his earnings at poker. The game had been rigged but that did not matter to Roryn. Roryn had listened to everything people said in that pub and many had taught him new things. Roryn knew that Skyte would probably end up going to bed hungry and the father would out his losses on the son possibly driving him into the embrace of the Many-Faced God but that was none of the boy’s concern. They like everyone else were no one. 

“I know that Alaquo’s ship went down, and he had been arrogant enough to not take the thin man’s wager. His wife does not work and his son is a cripple.” She told him, giving the man fully detailed truths. Once a girl had needed to use that truth as three separate things but a girl had gotten better at finding out new things. The kindly man somehow always knew when she tried to use truths from the previous day so there was no benefit to not telling all. 

“That is one.” The man said.

“I know that Orbello had been having an affair with Barbara. Her youngest son is secretly Orbello’s not her husband’s.” A girl told him. 

“That is two.”

“The pub owner, Peren had to take a loan from the Iron Bank to cover his losses at gambling. He cheated Skyte’s father with a rigged game to pay off his debt and make him go bankrupt instead.” The girl showed no emotion despite how fond Roryn had been of Skyte and how much fun they had together. Roryn was just another face for a girl to wear. 

“That is three.” The man said. “Now tell me, who are you?” 

“No one.” A girl said as always.

Her cheek was smacked by the man’s stick but a girl did not flinch despite being hit hard enough that there was sure to be a purple welt on her skin in the morning before she put on a new face for the day to hide the mark but not the pain that came from it. She was too used to the pain by now to be bothered by it. 

“You lie.” The man said. 

A girl said nothing in reply. She knew she hadn’t lied and she was fairly sure she kept her face passive so there should be nothing that told him she lied. Yet still, he insisted that she was lying when she wasn’t. 

“Who were you before you came here?” He said his voice as flat as ever with no emotion.

“No one.” 

Another smack from the stick this one on her other cheek. It stung and a girl’s eyes burned, tears threatening to spill out but she forced herself to contain them. 

“What is your name?” The man asked.

“A girl has no name.”

A third smack to the top of her head and this time a girl couldn’t contain her tears as they slipped down her cheeks but even still she didn’t so much as wince.

-

Today a girl had been a girl. The girl had been a whore, she had served in Lord Vencyr’s Brothel in Pentos to earn enough coin to feed her newborn son. She like all the faces a girl wore was dead. She had given her name to the Many-Faced God begging him to take her and let her son live. The Many-Faced God granted her request, her son had lived for a whole nine days after her death before he too was killed and eaten by a starving man. The man had been so desperate for nourishment after going three days without any sustenance that he turned to cannibalism and ate the child. Even newborn children could beg for death and be given to the Many-Faced God. 

The girl had spent the entire day in Lord Mertio’s Brothel today. She had fucked six different men today. Men had no secrets to a whore who knew how to make a man talk. The sex hadn’t been at all pleasant but the secrets she learned more than made up for the pain she had felt. She would be able to given the man eighteen truths this day with ease if she wanted too, three from each man. 

“You have returned to us.” The kindly man greeted her.

“The moon is black.” She replied.

“It is.” He agreed. “What three new things do you know, that you did not know when last you left us?” 

“The sailor’s wife was once married to a Westerosi Lord.” She told the kindly man. Once when she had still been Arya Stark and had been made to play the part of a whore she had snarked that sex hurt when he asked what she had learned. Arya Stark had been hit by the stick for that. 

“That is one.” The kindly man said. 

A girl had the urge to smile but repressed it. “The High Sparrow has arrested the Queen of Westeros, Margaery Tyrell on the charges of infidelity to her husband, the King Tommen Baratheon.” 

One of the men that Ryanne had slept with today was a Septon fleeing from King’s Landing after the High Sparrow had shown that he had no limits and was okay going after the queen. He had feared that the faith militant would deem him corrupt and punish him like they had the previous High Septon. 

“That is two.” The man said. If he was at all surprised by the news he showed no sign of it. 

“The Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, Jon Snow let the wildlings south of the wall and settle in the gift.” A man from Eastwatch by the Sea sailing her on a trade route had told her that one. While he had fucked her he had raged about the Lord Commander, Jon Fucking Snow letting the savages have their lands. 

Arya Stark had known Jon Snow. Arya Stark had loved him, he had given her a sword even. But a girl was not Arya Stark he was no one. Arya Stark was just another face a girl had worn. 

“Who are you?” 

“No one.” She was smacked for her response.

“Who were you before you came here?”

“No one.” She replied again and was again swatted by his stick. 

“What is your name?” He asked of her.

“A boy has no name.” She replied and was smacked a third time.

-

Today a boy had been the apprentice to a woodcarver. A boy already knew what he was taught today, he had worn the face of a slave who made elaborate carvings for his master before giving himself to the Many-Faced God in order to escape slavery. 

A girl was not tasked with learning how to carve, she was tasked with being his apprentice and observing the secrets of the clients. The client they worked with today was from Volantis, they had come searching for a carving of the Harpy God of Meereen before the Dragon Queen had taken over and burnt their gods. From that client, she could draw many conclusions from the faces he made when he had asked for her master’s services. 

“You have returned to us.” The kindly man greeted her.

“The moon is black.” She replied.

“It is.” He agreed. “What three new things do you know, that you did not know when last you left us?” 

“The Volanteese are looking to kill the Dragon Queen and her dragons.” She had figured that one out by the man’s request for the wood to appear scorched as if it had been burnt by flames but to still stand strong and be firm as if it had survived the blaze.

“That is one.” 

“The Volanteese are funding the Sons of the Harpy.” She had figured that one out by the way his lips twitched when he spoke of the Harpy and how he had demanded the Harpy Statue wear a mask of Gold. He had even provided the gold himself. His excitement in his voice at the statue was so clear that a girl was sure that even foolish Arya Stark would have realized that thing. 

“That is two.” 

“The Iron Bank is also funding the Sons of The Harpy.” Admittedly she didn’t know that just suspected but she was fairly confident. She had followed the man after he had left her shop, he had gone to the Iron Bank and come out looking extremely satisfied with what had happened and his eyes showed his hunger for blood along with his confidence that he would get it. 

“A girl thinks or a girl knows?” The kindly man asked. 

A girl did not reply, she knew it was pointless. The man’s stick smacked her cheek hard enough to draw blood. 

“That is still only two.” The man said. 

A girl had been foolish by speaking what she theorized rather than what she knew to be true. A girl should not have spoken without knowing. She decided to tell a simpler truth that he knew for sure to be true, a girl did not want to be hit again. “Lord Dyros’s favorite color is blue.” That wasn’t a secret or anything truly revelational but apart from the Volanteese noble all the woodcarver’s clients had been boring today and she was certain that was a true statement. 

“Who are you?” The kindly man demanded.

“No-” A girl stopped herself from giving the same answer. She felt the blood on her cheek over the bruises from the weeks of beatings she had suffered. She did not want to be hit again and answering no one would almost certainly see her hit by his stick again. “I don’t know.” She answered honestly, he always said she lied so she would tell him the full and complete truth. She thought that she was no one but if she wasn’t no one than she did not know who she was.

He did not hit her with his stick this time. “Who were you before you came here?” 

A girl was elated, was that what he had wanted? Her to just be completely honest? Emboldened by her success with the last question she had answered truthfully. “I was Arya Stark, daughter to Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell.” 

His stick slammed into her temple hard enough to knock her to the floor. Apparently that was not the correct strategy. 

“What is your name?” The kindly man asked. 

A girl considered answering with something new but a girl had no clue who to say so she settled for the same thing as always, resigned to her fate. “A girl has no name.”

His stick slammed into the top of his head with a loud thwack and a girl crumpled on the floor. 

-

Today a girl had been a beggar once again, an old man- cripple and broken sitting on the steps of the Iron Bank begging for enough coin to feed and clothe herself. He too had asked the Many-Faced God to take him since he found his life unfulfilling. He had drowned himself in the harbor one night. He had pleaded with every passerby for some spare coin but no one had much to spare. No one cared about an old man. He had collected only two small coppers from the people who passed by but she had gotten much more in secrets. No one was careful around the homeless, they were beneath them- the wealthy Lords and often they would not worry over them overhearing, who would they tell after all? 

“You have returned to us.” The kindly man greeted her.

“The moon is black.” She replied.

“It is.” He agreed. “What three new things do you know, that you did not know when last you left us?” 

“Brusco had to take a loan from the Iron Bank after Cat from the Canals killing a man had cost him much of his business.” A girl told him. Once a girl had been Cat from the Canals and had killed a man but a girl was no longer Cat and she felt no guilt for Cat’s actions. 

“That is one.” 

“The theater will be in Sheelba Square next week, they will sell a tale about the good innocent King Joffrey, the war of five kings and his death at the purple wedding.” She had heard that one from Lord Sheelba himself as he had advertised outside the bank and even invited the old crippled beggar to attend- if he had enough coin of course. 

“That is two.” 

“King Stannis sent Lord Florent to Braavos to hire him some sellswords before his death, although he did not have the gold for it with King Robert’s debts to the Iron Bank.” A girl had heard that one on the steps of the Iron Bank as Lord Florent had cursed the bank on his way out and had cursed Robert Baratheon for being so foolish. 

“Who are you?” The kindly man demanded.

“I don’t know.” A girl had replied that had worked yesterday and a girl didn’t know who he was anymore. She thought he was no one but was she truly?

“Who were you before you came here?” The man did not hit her once again for her previous answer.

“Arya Stark.” The man lifted his stick to hit her but she continued speaking. “And Cat from the Canals, and Roryn, and Mercy, and Arry and Serra, and Ryanne, and Weasel, and Lanna, and Tyson and Thom and-”

The man cut her off with a raised hand but did not strike her. “What is your name?” 

“A girl has many names, her name is whatever it needs to be.” A girl spoke calmly. If answering in the multiple had been the correct response for the last question maybe that was again the solution to this question. 

“Who is Arya Stark?” The kindly man asked. Finally, she was getting a new question after she went the first three without being struck at all. 

Flashes of a girl’s life when she had been Arya Stark flashed before her eyes. She had been a wolf, the lone wolf might have died in Kings Landing but the pack survived. But a girl was not a wolf she was a girl. She remembered her brother giving him her needle and being told to  _ stick them with the pointy end  _ and  _ don’t tell Sansa.  _ But a girl was not Arya Stark any more than she was any of the other faces that she wore. 

“Arya Stark is just another face that I wear.” She replied after a moment and waited for the blow to come but it never did.

The man nodded, the only outward reaction she had ever coaxed out of him. “Even no one is a someone, names are just masks we wear to play a part. All men are the same, they all live and they all die. Only when you don’t know why you are, are you truly no one. A girl has finally given herself to service the Many-Faced God and is ready to carry out his will. A girl will finally be given a name from the Many-Faced God.” 

“What is that name?” A girl asked unable to contain herself, she was finally going to do something for the Many-Faced God. She would finally get to prove himself. 

“Daario Naharis.” A voice whispered in her ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah very different faceless men then what we see in the show, will probably see in the books and what we see in most fanfiction. The faceless men are according George RR Martin himself is a death cult of assassins, that is not meant to be the good guys. They worship death and what better embodies death cults than suicide. 
> 
> It is very easy for the faceless men to become overpowered or a deus ex machine where Arya kills someone and then removes their face and pretends to be them or in some cases doesn't even kill them just magically becomes them. I wanted to do things differently and limit the people the faceless men could choose to become to those who choose to die, for those who beg to die. No longer can Arya just take Jamie's face and kill Cersei like she so often does in fanfiction, now she's limited in who she can use. Could she torture someone until the point where they kill themselves? Of course, she could but that takes significant time for them to choose death. 
> 
> Human sacrifice is a powerful magic in the world of Game of Thrones, and a mother sacrificing her child/husband enables Daenerys to birth dragons. For the faceless men, their magic is powered by people choosing to sacrifice themselves.
> 
> In Dance with Dragons we see during The Ugly Little Girl chapter that Arya when she first receives the face experiences the girls death and she dreams of the girl's life. We also see that the girl begged the Many-Faced God to take her life. This is largely based off of that. 
> 
> I imagine that receiving memories from two lives would lead to confusion of your identity and we see that in DwD. In the Winds of Winter Mercy Sample chapter, we see Arya hardly remembers who she is anymore with the memories from multiple lives clashing. In this, she's worn dozens of faces and lost all sense of her identity so she can finally be no one and be able to become anyone for a time. 
> 
> Realistically, she would probably wear each face longer than a die but if she were to wear them for even a week then her story would be way out of sync with the rest of the characters and she wouldn't even return to Westeros until after the story ended so it's vastly accelerated for plot convenience.
> 
> As to why she was given the name of Daario that will be revealed eventually. 
> 
> On Tuesday, we go back to Jon's perspective once again. 
> 
> Read and Review.


	10. Jon IV

“I named all three of you for Rhaego. Drogon was named after his father who gave him to me. Viserion after the brother who made me realize just how much I loved Rhaego. He threatened to kill Rhaego and I watched as he died by a crown of molten gold. I did not feel any sadness for he had threatened my son.” His Daenerys smiled a sad smile, tears in the corner of her eyes, and she resumed her caressing of Jon’s head. “I named you for my darling Rhaego, the son that was lost to me. For the longest time, I thought that the witch’s death bought me my dragons but I was wrong. I wasn’t the first person to burn people alive in an attempt to hatch a dragon. It was my darling Rhaego’s sacrifice that was the price I paid for my dragons. A mother willingly sacrificing her children was the cost.”

His Daenerys laughed and emptied the last of her wine glass. The glass dropped to the floor. “My children were born of Fire and Blood; as the witch said only death can pay for life.” She lifted his head off of her lap and walked back inside without a backward glance. 

He stared after her retreating form, his mind a whirl. His Daenerys had gone through so much and was still so strong. She had lost her child and if the witch’s prophecy was to be believed any chance at having children in the future. She had traded her most precious connection unknowingly for three dragons. Jon wondered if he would have been able to make the same choice, if he would trade Arya or any of his other siblings-cousins for three dragons. They might be enough to tilt the scales in the living’s side in the war against The Others but that was still such a high price. 

Daenerys could never have kids of her own so Jon, Viserion, and Drogon would have to be her children. They would win her the seven kingdoms like she wanted but it would still never fill that hole in her heart. He could be by her side until the day they died and comfort her in whatever way she had need of but he wouldn’t ever be what Rhaego was to her. It was a miracle that she was still as sane and strong as she was after going through that. Jon thought he himself might have broke if that happened to him. She was the strongest and best person he knew. 

He was proud of being her dragon and would do whatever he could to help her accomplish her goals, even if it meant doing things he would rather not do and embracing the beast within him. That was why he had hunted down the men in gold masks for his Daenerys. He couldn’t understand what the men were saying, they had spoken in a foreign tongue. He had seen the gold masks that Daenerys hated while flying around the city and stretching his wings. Jon knew if he was still human he would have likely just abducted them and brought her prisoners, that had been his intention at first. He had misjudged how much the anger would grip him when he got closer and saw the men who caused his mother so much pain. He had just reacted on the dragons desires to tear, burn and kill. He hadn’t regretted it after the fact either, he still didn’t regret his savagery despite how he knew his old self would have reacted. His Daenerys had been proud of him, and he would do it again if it made her happy despite his knowing it was wrong. 

All of a sudden, it was both hot and cold at the same time, he felt like he was on fire but the air around him was freezing- but that was impossible, he was a dragon- he could not be on fire. Maybe Viserion had gotten pissy again and decided to burn him in anger. He hoped not- he knew his Daenerys couldn’t be burnt but she and her people would be upset if the pyramid he had been lounging on was destroyed and innocent people died in the crossfire. He was almost certain it wasn't that regardless as the fire was much colder then Viserion's flames and the air was too chilly to be in Meereen. 

He opened his eyes and looked around him. All he could see was fire, and a cloud of thick smoke that obscured his vision, odd considering as a Dragon his eyesight was vastly superior to that of a human and he couldn’t remember smoke ever affecting his sight. His eyes were designed to pierce any of the haze caused by fire and it's byproducts. 

He rose in an effort to get up and above the blaze so he could accurately assess his predicament but found his way blocked by shackles bound around his belly. Had his Daenerys chained them again while he must have been sleeping? Surely, she wouldn’t not without any provocation. Had someone somehow taken him captive? 

He tried to furl his wings only to find out he had none- he had arms? He lifted his head to look at his body, it was hazy even in the close proximity but he saw human chest? He was somehow a human again? 

“Talk about perfect timing.” A man’s voice that sounded somewhat familiar chuckled. “We burn him right before he comes back as a wight.” 

“The dead really come back?” Another familiar voice this one belonging to a woman asked in disbelief. 

“They do, and there is an army of them marching towards us. King Crow saved us by letting us settle in the gift.” The man proclaimed again.

It took only a moment to place that voice, only one person called him King Crow. “Tormund?” He coughed in disbelief, his voice raspy and dry. Was he somehow back as Jon Snow after he had died? 

“Jon?” He heard the woman from earlier ask. 

“Lord Commander?” A voice he believed to be Dolorous Edd questioned. 

“You’re alive?” He believed that one was Ser Davos. 

“King Crow? Is that you?” The one he had previously identified as Tormund asked. “You’re not a wight are you?” 

“Yes!” He yelled as loud as he could over the roar of the flames that licked at his skin but did not burn. “I’m somehow still alive!” 

“Quickly get him out of there!” Tormund yelled as pandemonium exploded wherever they were. Everyone was shouting, too many voices to be decipherable. Snow was thrown onto him- most of it not ever reaching him as it turned into steam with a hiss. The process continued for what felt like an hour but was probably only actually a minute or two. 

Eventually, the flames were quenched and he was just cold now buried completely in snow. He couldn’t breathe- he couldn’t see as only snow was in front of him. He opened his mouth and found it flooded with cold snow. Did he come back from the dead just to die again after he was buried alive in the snow? 

Apparently not as now that the flames were gone people set to digging him out. Within a few seconds, his face was free and he could see. Wun Wun stood towering above him holding a bucket larger than Jon was upside down. The snow was cleared from his body leaving his naked figure open to all prying eyes. 

Wun Wun reached down and tore off the chain around his belly with a roar. Jon rolled to the side and fell face down in the snow. He was freezing. He had always been in the cold as a child but never this bad and never naked. Compared to Meereen as a Dragon and laying in the middle of a great fire, this was the coldest he had ever been and Jon was sure he would freeze to death. Jon shakily pushed himself off the ground and to his feet, he needed to get to some form of warmth. 

He was dragged the rest of the way up and was immediately crushed in a hug by a rather large man who smashed his lips into his own briefly. “You’re alive, King Crow!” the man he now recognized as Tormund laughed. 

He was let go of and immediately crushed into a hug by another much smaller man. “How?” Edd wondered aloud as he crushed Jon into his chest. When he let go he took note of Jon’s nakedness and draped his own black cloak over his shoulders, finally giving him some measure of warmth even if it wasn’t much.

He took a step back and looked out on the onlookers a few paces back. He was in a wildling camp that was for sure, he could tell by the furs they wore. There were thousands of them gathered here, possibly the whole of the group that they had been able to bring North of The Wall. Some on their feet but the majority of them on their knees or even their bellies, prostrating themselves before him like he was some sort of god.  _ Not fucking kneelers indeed.  _ The dragon in him reveled in their worship, they were inferior to him, it was only proper that they kneel.

“Jon.” The voice was soft and feminine but he still heard it over the camp that had fallen silent when he stood up, alive and unharmed by the flames.    
  


His head turned towards the noise and it took him a moment to place who the face belonged to, it had been years after he had last seen her at all and she had grown up a lot since then. If it wasn’t for the Direwold sigil on her cloak he wasn’t sure he ever would have recognized her. 

“Sansa,” he exhaled and sprinted towards her. The cold snow on his bare feet made him lose his footing a few times. She took a few steps forward of her own and he practically fell into her arms. “You’re really here?” He said into her thick auburn hair in complete disbelief. 

She laughed and sobbed into his shoulder. “I should be the one asking you that. You were dead Jon.” She pulled her head back slightly so she could see his face and Jon noticed that there were tears running down her cheeks. 

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Jon confessed. “I wanted so badly to go to Winterfell when I heard the Bolton’s had you but I couldn’t. Stannis promised to bring you back to Castle Black but then he lost.” He kissed her forehead tenderly.

She buried her head into his shoulder once again. “I’m so sorry for how awful I was to you. I’m sorry that I’m the one you finally get to see again.” She cried. 

“Shhh.” Jon tried to calm her, the rest of the world forgotten. “We were children Sansa, there is nothing to forgive.” He swallowed. “We’re the last of the Starks, we have to stick together.” 

Sansa pulled herself from his arms and grabbed his hands in her own soft hands.  _ Not as soft as his Daenerys’s though.  _ She shook her head. “No, we’re not. At least probably.” Jon looked at her completely shocked and he squeezed her hands, his eyes begging to know more. “Lady Brienne ran into Arya last year in the company of the hound. While she fought him Arya fled.” Sansa explained.

Jon wasn’t sure who Lady Brienne was but if they had seen Arya he needed to meet them. “And Theon-” Jon’s grip reflexively tightened at the mention of that traitor. “Didn’t kill Bran and Rickon but two stable boys, they escaped. Theon escaped with me and saved me.” Jon was elated, he had Sansa with him and somehow all of his siblings sans Rob were still possibly alive.

Jon was about to reply when he felt an unnaturally warm hand on his wrist. He pulled one hand from Sansa’s grip and turned to face the offending party. He hardly recognized the Lady Melisandre dressed in a black gown rather than her usual red ensemble. “I thought the Lord of Light-I lost faith but it worked. Of course, it would need fire and blood to complete the resurrection.”

Daenerys’s last words to him echoed in his mind.  _ Fire and Blood; as the witch said only death can pay for life.  _ “What did you do?” He snarled at her. 

Ser Davos stepped between them and placed his hand on Jon’s shoulder. “She brought you back, somehow. She did some valyrian spell on you four days ago and now you’re back- after being dead for seven going on eight days now.” 

Jon nodded- he had already guessed at most of that- not the exact time table but the general premise of what happened. He shrugged off Davos’s hand and stepped towards her, grabbing her wrist. “Yes I’m back and only death can pay for life, so tell me who did you sacrifice?” He demanded of her. 

Davos tried to calm him again. “I was there, there was no sacrifice. Just a bunch of nonsense where she said some things in Valyrian and tossed your hair and blood in a fire.”

“Of course wake dragons out of stone... he’s unburnt.. he’s Targaryen of course… she was a girl of stone... I asked the Lord to give Azor Ahai victory...” Melisandre rambled incoherently seemingly lost in her own thoughts.  _ Well shit, was it that obvious to everyone that I am a Targaryen?  _

Jon put the dots together pretty quickly as Daenerys’s words still haunted him. Shireen Baratheon had greyscale, and those infected were often called stone men. His hand that had been in Sansa’s pulled free and wrapped itself around the Red Witch’s neck. “You sacrificed Shireen Baratheon.” He grit his teeth.  _ A mother willingly sacrificing her children was the cost.  _ To think he once respected Stannis. “And Stannis gave his consent.” This had to be a nightmare coming from him hearing Daenerys’s nightmarish tale of his birth.

Ser Davos stepped in, obviously in shock at what Jon had just revealed. He grabbed her by the shoulder, out of Jon’s grip and turned her towards him. “You sacrificed Shireen?” He demanded harshly.

The Lady Melisandre nodded dumbly, still in too much shock to actually think about her actions. 

“How could you?” Davos roared spittle flying everywhere. “I loved that girl like she was my own. She was good. She was kind. And you killed her!” His voice dropped a couple of octaves and the quiet declaration was more intimidating than his yelling had been. “You burned her alive.” 

“I only did what the Lord commanded to save Azor Ahai, I thought it was Stannis but it was Jon Snow all along. It took the sacrifice of a stone girl to bring back a dragon from stone.” 

“If your Lord commands you to burn children, your lord is evil!” Davos raged. 

“Jon Snow stands here alive today because the Lord willed it.” She argued calmly. 

Jon Snow chuckled darkly. “Who gave you the right to play god? To decide my life is more valuable then Shireen's?” 

She said nothing in response, firmly set in her belief that she had done her Lord’s will.

“Lord Commander, I ask your leave to execute this woman for murder. She admits to the crime.” Davos asked, his hand gripping the ever-familiar wolf pommel of Longclaw at his side ready to pull it on the witch, in a moment’s notice. 

“Denied,” Jon replied after a moment.

  
  
“What?” Davos screeched as he pulled the valyrian steel sword partway out of the scabbard. 

Jon held up his hand. “She does not get to die a quick death.” He looked at the torch in the hand of one of the Wildlings. “She gets to die the same way so many of her victims did, being burnt alive.” If he was going to dream of some parallel to Daenerys’s tale then he might as well give the witch the same death. Yet part of Jon didn’t think this was really a dream, he had never had this vivid of dreams and no one ever wondered if they were in a dream in an actual dream. Regardless, the dragon demanded she suffer and burn before she died whether this was real or not. 

He looked towards where a bunch of the men of the Night’s Watch were clustered. He flinched slightly at the sight of their black cloaks. The Night’s Watch had betrayed him, he couldn’t trust them again. “Detain her and tie her to a stake. She burns tonight.” He ordered of them and well some of them looked hesitant three men stepped forward to do as he bade.

Val, the sister of Mance’s late wife who had died in childbirth stepped forth and rapped him on his shoulder. “Snow, we have some furs in that tent collected for you if you want to change into something warmer.” She winked at him. “Not that we don’t enjoy the view.” 

If it hadn’t been so cold out Jon was sure that his face would be red. He nodded and thanked her stepping into the tent she had pointed out. The furs were a bit tighter then he might have liked and itched a bit but it would serve until he could find an outfit better accustomed to him. 

He stepped outside the tent and immediately grabbed a torch from one of the wildlings stationed just outside the tent. He walked towards a now bound Melisandre tied to a wooden post with his torch in hand. She looked as calm as ever he approached her, despite knowing she was about to die much like Daenerys had told him Mirri Mazz Durr had been when she burnt her. Jon knew that just like the other witch had, Melisandre would too scream as she slowly burnt alive. 

One of the men of the Night’s Watch- he believed it might have been Albett but it was hard to know for certain in the torchlight. Whoever he was stepped forward to douse the Red Witch with oil as Jon advanced on her with a torch. “Stop. What are you doing?” Jon demanded already knowing the answer. 

The man flushed and turned towards him. “Dousing her with oil, Lord Commander.” 

“Did she douse Shireen Baratheon with oil when she burned her? What about Mance Rayder?” Only silence answered him. “And I’m not Lord Commander anymore, my watch ended with my death.” He stated plainly. He couldn't afford to be stuck up at the wall or let his vows keep him from his Daenerys. He couldn't trust the men of the Night's Watch and would never be one of them again.

He put his hand in the flame from the torch and felt the warmth of it but he did not burn. The warm flames soothed him, they felt nice in the absence of pain. He wondered how his Daenerys went so long without being cloaked in fire. He was a dragon now so it only made sense he could no longer burn, that was the way of dragons after all. 

He stepped towards Melisandre and bent down to light the grass and branches piled at the bottom of the stake, around her feet. He stopped, stood back up and turned to Ser Davos “You may have the honor, if you would like it. You were closest to Shireen.” Davos nodded his thanks and took the torch from Jon. He lowered it down with a blank face and lit the pyre. 

“For the Night is Dark and Full of Terrors,” Dolorous Edd proclaimed in a mocking lilt. He had always had a dark sense of humor.

Jon was impressed at how long Melisandre held out before finally screaming. She did not break right away like most people did, instead, lasting until almost a whole minute. The sound of her screams as she burnt alive made Jon’s blood sing and he couldn't help but smirk in triumph. He like his Daenerys had burnt the with who had dared to murder an innocent child in order to play god; he couldn’t pretend to understand the pain his Daenerys felt when she lost Rhaego but he could understand how she took such joy in watching the witch burn. The fire was truly beautiful, as it burnt away life itself consuming all in its path. As it burnt away even the greatest evils, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake. Everything in the world had to bow down to fire, man, woman, wights, others, and every kind of animal. Everything but Dragons. Everyone but him and his Daenerys. 

He turned away from the flames and looked at the crowd looking on as Melisandre’s screams sang the song of the night. Sansa had a slight grimace on her face but she did not flinch away from the flames. Edd had a slight smirk and Davos’s face was blank, an emotionless mask in place. Tormund and a good portion of the rest of the wildlings who had come to see Jon burn had vindictive smiles on their faces; Melisandre had burnt their king after all. The majority of the crowd, however, had turned their faces away or looked towards her burning body horrified. 

As he screams faded away and her light faded into a dim flicker, Jon allowed himself to smile. Now it was time for Thorne to get his just desserts. 

-

It turned out that Thorne would not be getting his just desserts. Jon had wanted to murder the bastard for killing Ghost and himself but he could not as much as he wanted too. If Jon wanted to claim he wasn’t Lord Commander anymore and he definitely did then he couldn’t dispense justice as the Night’s Watch was protected from any outside authority. As much as he wanted revenge, that was up to the next Lord Commander to take it- he could not do anything against them for the Night’s Watch was protected from outsiders and Jon was now an outsider. 

However, that did not mean he couldn’t neutralize him another way. When he had come back to Castle Black, he publicly accused Ser Alliser, Bowen Marsh, Othyll Yarwyck, Wick Whittlestick and little Olly of committing treason and killing their former Lord Commander. Putting extra emphasis on the word former. He, of course, knew the latter two were dead, he had killed them himself as Ghost but it was better that no one else knew about his other lives after his human death. 

From there, Ser Dennys Mallister once he got over the shock of seeing Jon Snow alive had ordered Thorne, Marsh, and Yarwyck to be thrown into the ice cells to be held until the new Lord Commander had been chosen. He had also had Jon placed in the Kings Tower for the duration of his stay at Castle Black. He also left not so subtle hints at what he would do with Thorne and his posy if he was named Lord Commander.

Jon knew that Mallister held no love for him or the Free Folk despite his actions. He was acting in hopes that Jon would endorse him as Lord Commander. Jon didn’t have a say in the next Lord Commander  _ officially.  _ However, his word still meant a lot to many of the men here, especially after he had conquered death and been outed as a Targaryen. If he were to give someone his support their odds of getting the position, especially someone like Mallister who already had lots of support would see their odds drastically increase and if Jon supported him, he would likely be the 999th Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. 

Jon wouldn’t support him though, he didn’t know who he would support but Mallister was too hostile and believed in placing their vows above all else. He was too by the book to be an effective option in such troubled times. They needed peaceful negotiations with the Free Folk and to bend the rules with the Others marching on the wall, they had to be united to stand against the real threat when Winter came. Mallister was a good soldier and a great leader but he would have them divided and they would lose with him at the helm if they tried to play by the rules.

Cotter Pyke, the other leading candidate who wasn’t currently being held for treason would be even worse, however. He was illiterate at a time in which Castle Black held no Maester and they needed diplomacy and a sweet tongue now more than ever. Pyke was bold and a good a fighter as any sure but he lacked in the ability to handle more gentle manners. He was rather dull and slow on the uptake as well. He would likely wage war with the wildlings once more and they would gain no allies under his leadership. 

Jon wasn’t sure that Dolorous Edd would get the needed support or even be a great Lord Commander but off the top of Jon’s head, he was the best option. He had some issues with his temperament and might not necessarily be the sweetest talker but Jon knew that at the very least his heart was in the right place. He was willing to ally with the Free Folk and would stop the Night’s Watch from waging war on them, again.

But who else was there? Hobb? Hobb was no leader and didn’t have any experience in battle He was the cook, not a warrior. Endrew Tarth maybe? He was a good archery instructor and had some experience commanding men in battle. He was not at all charismatic, however, and he was more of a follower than a leader. He would take too much advice from his men and lacked the firm hand needed to rule. 

The best option if Jon was honest with himself was Ser Denner Frostfinger. Denner had been master of arms alongside Tarth after Thorne had been promoted to first ranger. He was a good leader, charismatic, and an amicable fellow. He was no fool either, he would not wage war with the Wildlings. He would reluctantly work with them for the sake of the watch if it was needed and he had no notable biases against any of the Lords and Kings they would have to work with. He was a simple hedge knight with no family of his own before coming to the wall. 

The issue for Jon was that Frostfinger had been in the crowd that watched as he was betrayed and murdered. He doubted it was personal, Frostfinger rarely was. He was the consummate southern Lord. He was ambitious and would sacrifice pawns to get what he wanted. Frostfinger had acted against Jon because he saw an opening to seize power or because he did believe Jon broke his vows as Thorne claimed- to make an example that none were above the law. Or perhaps he had thought Jon would not be able to set aside his personal vendetta with the Boltons and Lannisters for the good of all mankind and to survive the incoming winter. He had gone with Jon to Hardhome and seen the threat first hand, he had also gone to Jon’s cremation ceremony and witnessed his resurrection first hand. He would be a good choice but he would also likely let Thorne off for killing him or at the very least Marsh and Yarwyck off with at most a demotion, claiming their services were too valuable to the watch or whatever to execute them. 

He sighed and rubbed his brow. The choosing started tomorrow so he had to figure something out tonight. He would have to follow his head and not his heart, He couldn’t give in to the dragon in him that demanded vengeance for Ghost’s murder, he had to put the good of the watch and all of the living first.

He could feel a connection to Rhaegal, even as a human again, similar to how he felt with Ghost but so much stronger. Even knowing that Rhaegal was still in Meeereen he could feel him, and his emotions to a sense. With the greatest of ease. He could slip into Rhaegal’s skin and be flying over the Dothraki grass sea. He wanted desperately to pull on his connection to Rhaegal and call him to the wall where Jon was but he wanted, even more, to be able to slip into his skin and still visit his Daenerys well he slept or when he had some time to spare. Besides, Daenerys would panic if Rhaegal went missing, and having a dragon by his side now would create awkward questions he wasn’t yet ready to answer. 

He looked down at the familiar sword on his hip, Davos had returned Longclaw to him after they had burned Melisandre. A lot had changed since he had first saved the 997th lord commander of the Night’s Watch, Jeor Mormont from the wight, and been given House Mormont’s ancestral sword as a reward. The wolf pommel on the hilt mocked him, the lie his father told him his entire life he couldn’t help but be reminded of. His mother might have been a Stark and maybe he was a part wolf as well but he was more of a Dragon then anything else.

A knock on the door interrupted his musings. “Jon?” Sansa called through the door. 

Jon gave a genuine smile and rose to let her into his room. When he opened the door he hugged her briefly before escorting her to the desk he had been at. He took a seat across from her and reached for her hand. He could hardly believe that she was actually here with him.

She shuddered. “Your hands are so warm. How? It’s freezing.” 

Jon shrugged. He would presume it was an aftereffect of his bond to Rhaegal but he had no intention of sharing that information with anyone right now. So instead of him answering the question he simply said, “It’s good to see you again.” 

She nodded in agreement. For a while, they sat silent, just happy to be together again after so long apart. He clung to her hand tightly as if afraid that if he let go she would vanish but eventually, Sansa broke the ice. 

“You’re a Targaryen.” She said simply and Jon knew he could not deny it. He was unburnt, anyone who knew that could figure out pretty quickly that he was a Targaryen. Only they had ever withstood fire in the seven kingdoms. 

Jon nodded, he couldn’t deny it. “Seems so.” 

“You’re not our father’s son, are you? You’re the son of our Aunt Lyanna and Rhaegar Targaryen.” She spoke softly and Jon had a hard time telling her feelings on his parentage. He wasn’t surprised she had figured it out, it was the obvious conclusion when you knew Jon was a Targaryen, she would be far from the last one to draw that conclusion. Ideally, he would be able to keep his parentage secret for a while longer, at least until they defeated the Boltons so the crown would stay uninvolved but that was a pipe dream. 

“Seems like that is the case.” He agreed. 

“You’re still my brother.” She reassured him and Jon smiled giving her hand a small squeeze. 

“You have a claim to the Iron Throne.” She pointed out calmly, as if she was just discussing the weather. 

Jon grit his teeth and tried to calm himself before replying. “I’m a bastard, I have no claim.” The throne belonged to Daenerys not him, he could never be King. The dragon might love people kneeling before him but Jon didn’t want power, he never had. He had only become Lord  Commander because Sam had thrust him into the position. Jon hated leading and being a King would be his worst nightmare. 

Sansa smiled at him but it didn’t reach her eyes. “The current King is a bastard with no blood ties, as the last Targaryen, even as a natural-born one you have the best claim.” 

“I don’t want it,” Jon protested feebly. “I’m not the last Targaryen, anyways.” As soon as he said that he realized it was a mistake by the slight narrowing of Sansa’s eyes, it was brief as she quickly composed herself after the slight drop of her mask. 

“Who else is there? Is Cersei Lannister secretly a Targaryen now?” She scoffed in disbelief. 

Thinking quickly Jon told the truth.“The late Maester, Aemon Targaryen told us tales of Daenerys Targaryen in Essos, the breaker of chains and rightful Queen of the seven kingdoms.” 

“A sailors tale,” Sansa said dismissively. “They also claim she has real-life dragons.”

She does, Jon knew that for a fact but he wisely stayed silent. The Dragon part of him wanted vengeance for the words against his Daenerys but he forced himself to stay calm, he would do something he would regret if he tried to rebut her points. He wondered what had happened to the Sansa who believed in songs and fairy tales and had seen the world in black and white. That innocent girl was gone and she was cold and cynical now. 

“Don’t leave Robb and father’s deaths in vain, they didn’t want the Lannister bastard to sit on the iron throne; they died to get the throne from the Lannister’s claws. Stannis is dead, if not you then who?” She pressed on, undeterred by his lack of response.

Jon knew he was being manipulated, he was no fool. She was just using him to further her own ambitions, she still wanted to be queen, just like she had desired when they were children. He was her ticket to the top. “And I suppose you want to be my Queen?” He snorted.

She frowned and looked at the floor. “I won’t ever marry again.” Her voice was low and she was openly hostile at such an accusation. 

Jon frowned, that had been insensitive of him to dredge up what was obviously a painful experience for her, whether Tyrion or Ramsay or someone else entirely was responsible for her pain. If Tyrion was responsible, he would warg into Rhaegal and eat him, consequences be damned. He hadn’t realized how awful things were for her, how much she had suffered while he was gone. 

“I feel like we barely know each other, as children, we were never close and we haven’t seen each other for three years. I want to get to know you- really get to know you, I want to know all about what you got up to in the three years since we last spoke, and in return, I’ll do the same. I'll tell you everything up until my death.”  There was little harm in sharing information that many people already knew after all. He wouldn't ever trust her with what had happened while his human form was dead but he could tell her the rest as he had offered. 

Sansa shook her head, “I’ll tell you, if you promise to get the north back from the Bolton’s. If you won’t then I’ll leave and find someone else willing to do so.” 

Jon scowled, he had already planned on getting the north from the Bolton’s. They couldn’t be allowed to hold it, not after what they had done, they had spat upon the north and they would pay with fire and blood. Jon wouldn’t deny it was personal but it also was about all of their survival, if the Bolton’s held the north it was unlikely the watch could expect much aid. If he held the North then he could send all of the northern armies to the wall when the Others came and maybe they would stand a small chance at survival. 

“I’ll fight to get the north back.” He agreed and she sighed in relief. “If you don’t want to talk to me I won’t make you, please don’t try to use that to manipulate me into fighting for the North.”

Sansa had the decency the look abashed, she looked away from him and to the fireplace on the other side of the room from where they were. “I’m sorry, I’m used to dealing with selfish Lords where you have to give something to get anything in return, even when that something benefits them.” She looked back at him and briefly squeezed his hand before letting go. “I want to get to know you, really I do. It’s just difficult for me to be able to trust someone, to have someone who wants to help me for me and not their own self-interests.”

Jon nodded in agreement, what she was saying seemed to make sense. He too was reluctant to trust anyone, even Sansa he didn’t plan on telling everything. His and Arya’s mantra had always been  _ Don’t trust Sansa  _ or  _ Don’t tell Sansa.  _ The circumstances were different now but the sentiment remained. He could not allow himself to trust her. He had been betrayed too many times and perhaps she had seen her fair share of betrayals as well. He was still angered by her attempts at manipulating him but he wouldn’t judge her until he understood her. He smiled at her, only somewhat genuine. “Would you prefer that I go first?” 

Sansa blinked twice, confusion clear on her face before she remembered what he was asking. She nodded relief clear on her face. “If you would like so, then you can.” She replied diplomatically. She still wasn’t comfortable trusting him or used to having someone freely give information. Still, baby steps.

“Where do I start?” He mused aloud. “We’ll start at the beginning when I left for the wall.” The beginning was a logical place to start but that wasn’t why he was starting there. He was staring at his journey with Tyrion because he needed to know if he was the one who hurt her. He needed to know if Sansa who likely knew Tyrion better than anyone thought Tyrion was trustworthy or if he was a snake like the rest of his family. If he had hurt her or if Sansa thought he might betray his Daenerys then Jon would eat him, consequences be damned. 

“When we departed Winterfell, there were five of us in our party. Myself, Uncle Benjen, Lord Tyrion, and his two bodyguards.” He watched her face as he said Lord Tyrion but aside from a brief flicker of recognition at his name she stayed impassive. 

“When I left I was a foolish green boy who believed the Night’s Watch was a noble calling, a place full of people like Uncle Benjen. When we stopped to add two more to our party, I started to see things differently. A few days into our journey we met up with Yoren picked up two rapists from the Fingers-” He took notice of Sansa’s slight flinch at the mention of the Fingers, if he hadn’t been looking for such a thing he would have missed it.  _ Did Lord Baelish do something to her?  _

He continued with his tale after only a very brief pause. “- they had chosen the wall over castration. I struggled for some time with the reality that terrible men would serve at The Wall and how that did not line up with the noble calling that had been drilled into my head.”

“Lord Tyrion disabused me of that notion and forced me to accept reality. The wall was not a noble place for men of honor. The wall was a place for the misfits of the realm to be banished. A place for sullen peasants, debtors, poachers, rapists, thieves, and bastards.” He smiled fondly at the memory, partly genuine but also to see if it induced any sort of reaction from Sansa. She smiled slightly but Jon couldn’t tell how genuine it was. 

“Of course, Lord Tyrion wasn’t right about everything. He told me that The Wall wasn’t dangerous work, that The Others, grumkins, and snarks weren’t real.” He laughed dryly. “He then added a snarky comment about how I would freeze my balls off but since we are forbidden from breeding it didn’t matter.” 

Sansa was smiling more openly now and Jon could tell it was somewhat genuine at least. She didn’t appear to hold any resentment towards Tyrion at least. He finished his tale and was much laxer, he told her up to his arrival at the wall leaving very little details out of their journey. He spoke to her about the easy companionship he had with Tyrion and Uncle Benjen’s deep hatred for him simply because of his family name. The tale was light-hearted and revealed little of his character or the life he had lived before his death, that was not the purpose of his tale. He told her of that particular moment because it meant nothing in the grand scheme, people don’t become friends from hearing stories everyone knows, but from the meaningless things. 

When he had finished his story, she had sat silent for a few moments. Jon had claimed she should get some rest and dismissed her without making her utter a word about her own life. He wanted to know her but she needed to be comfortable telling him and not just pressured into it. Trust took time and Jon could wait until then, he wouldn't trust her but she would trust him. 

Once she had left, Jon turned back to more urgent matters. The next Lord Commander and the Northern conquest. He needed to have a plan by tomorrow when the choosing began. He sighed, visiting his Daenerys would have to wait for another day, he had a long night ahead of him and he would not be getting any sleep tonight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay Jon is finally not dead anymore. Hopefully, the public resurrection lived up to all of your expectations. I can't be the only one who was convinced of R+L=J when Melisandre's resurrection ritual failed at first and thought he would wake when they burnt him. 
> 
> Hopefully, Jon figuring out how Melisandre killed Shireen wasn't too unbelievable. He had just heard Daenerys's story about how she sacrificed Rhaego for her dragons and specifically that only death can pay for life so it made sense for him to already be thinking about the cost to bring him back. Melisandre is rather incoherent when Jon first comes back in the show and after she failed she's lost faith so her rambling incoherently is somewhat in character. The prophecy about the Prince who was Promised mentions waking dragons out of stone and her realizing that her sacrifice of a girl with greyscale to bring back a dragon is a literal manifestation of the prophecy is somewhat in character and like when confronted with Shireen's death in the show she doesn't bother trying to deny it.
> 
> The Free Folk are human and like every other human they would probably kneel when they saw someone come back from the dead and walk out of a fire unharmed. In the books they kneel because Stannis has a sword that glows lol. Not fucking kneelers indeed. 
> 
> Jon can't kill Ser Alliser and his goons. I want him to as do all of you I'm sure but since they took the black, they are outside of Jon's authority unless he wants to go back to the Night's Watch. Ser Alliser will die but it won't be by Jon's hand. 
> 
> He also can not choose the next Lord Commander like he stupidly did in the show. He has an insane amount of influence as the dude who didn't stay dead, the former Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, and now a Targaryen when a good portion of the watch is made up by Targaryen loyalists, captives from Robert's Rebellion. 
> 
> Side note, I read the bio's on awoiaf.westeros.org and the game of throne TV show wiki of every single named member of the Night's Watch, and they literally all sound like horrible leaders and even worse people. Ser Denner Frostfinger is probably the best choice but he for whatever reason has two separate pages on the TV show wiki when labeled Denner Frostfinger and one just labeled Ser Denner. They both refer to him as Ser Denner Frostfinger at some point in the wiki so why they are separate pages I couldn't say. Turns out according to the Ser Denner page ONLY he was one of the dudes who murdered Jon, not Wick. In this, he didn't murder him but was present in the cluster that watched the event because I had already mapped out a plot for him when I found this out so in this story it's Wick who murders Jon in his place. 
> 
> The Jon and Sansa conversation is very awkward and probably the worst and cringiest dialogue I've ever written but this also might be the first time they've ever had a real conversation so it kind of fits. Jon is trying to poke at Sansa to figure out what happened to her without directly asking and Sansa will do the same later. Their dynamic is one full of mistrust and mutual using of the other but they do care about each other at least a little. 
> 
> On Friday we have Jamie II and the wedding of Myrcella. 
> 
> Read and Review.


	11. Jamie II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding of Myrcella Baratheon and Trystane Martell

Jamie looked into the mirror in disbelief. He was really going through with this- leaving the Kingsguard and taking up his Lordship over Casterly Rock. All the years of his father demanding it of him, of being torn apart between his duties and now he was finally going to do it. Not for his father, his family, and especially not his house. He was doing it at the request of Arianne Martell. He was doing it to save his daughter's life. The whole thing was completely surreal.

He was dressed in the signature crimson red of House Lannister. His double-breasted vest was red leather with gold stitching and buttons. His pants were also crimson. On his back was the sigil of House Lannister. His long curls were slicked back and his face was clean-shaven. He had his sword at his hip, Widows Wail as his dead son had called it. He hardly recognized himself when he looked in the mirror without his full set of armor and the white cloak he had always worn while serving in the King’s Guard. 

Myrcella was getting married today to Trystane Martell. Today Jamie would give his daughter to another house- to another name. Today he would betray his house and cause Casterly Rock to be the seat of the Martell’s, the Lannisters no longer would rule the west. His father had wanted him to be the Lord of Casterly Rock for so long and now his father, if he was still alive, would beg him not to take it.

Jamie had broken too many oaths in his life. He had vowed to keep the King safe and killed him. He had vowed to defend the innocent and watched as the King killed, raped, and mutilated innocents. He had vowed to be just and he had pushed a little boy out of a tower for no crime. He had vowed to return Sansa and Arya Stark to their families but instead had returned neither. He had vowed to return their daughter to Kings Landing and he knew he would fail there. She might not be in Dorne anymore but Casterly Rock was still not Kings Landing. 

Jamie had tried to be a man of honor after losing his hand but he had failed. Jamie Lannister was an oathbreaker and the Kingslayer, he was no fairy tale, knight. It was time to stop pretending he was one. If he had to use dishonorable methods to save both his daughter and the Lannister name from certain death then so be it. 

They could threaten to kill Myrcella all they want but Jamie could do the same to Trystane to free his daughter from the noose around her neck. Once they were at Casterly Rock she would be safe from the Martells retaliation. Or maybe Jamie could marry someone for himself once she was safe and have a child of his own to replace her as his heir. He would hate sleeping with someone other than Cersei for the first time but he would make all the sacrifices he needed to, in order to save his daughter and his house.

There was a knock on the door to the room that Jamie had been given once he had agreed to her terms. Jamie sighed and walked over to open it, the day had gone by much too quickly. 

In the doorway was a woman, a beautiful one at that. She wore a close-fitting lilac dress that clung tightly to her slender body with a décolleté cut that showed plenty of tantalizing skin. Her black hair was pulled back in a long elegant braid that almost reached her hips. Her face was soft with high cheekbones and a small attractive button nose. Her eyes were a dark brown, alluring and seductive. Her skin was porcelain, a pale olive color not too dissimilar from Arianne’s own shade. Her lips were red as wine and curled in a sinister smile, tempting every man to taste the poison she was. 

“Lord Jamie,” The woman greeted him with a smile, she made no move to dip her head or bow like most servants would when speaking to a knight or a lord. “The princess requests your presence, I’m to escort you to her.” He glanced at the whip on her hip, was this the woman who had defeated him so easily? She had been wearing a hijab wrapped around her head at the time and that had made it hard to identify her. Still, she was about the right size and had a whip so it was probably her.

Jamie sighed. He really didn’t want to deal with the headache that was Arianne Martell right now but he knew he didn’t have a choice either way so he nodded his head and followed the woman down the corridor. 

She knocked on the door and pushed it open without waiting for a response. She walked in without a care in the world but Jamie lingered in the doorway. “Princess,” She called sweetly. “I’ve brought you, Lord Jamie, as you requested.” 

“Thank you, Nym.” A familiar voice called and Jamie felt his heartbeat spike. His suspicions were confirmed when Myrcella took a step into his view to hug the woman apparently named Nym. 

Myrcella was every bit as beautiful as her mother was when she had been her age. Her blonde hair hung in ringlets with pins holding it back from her unblemished face. She wore a golden gown with a plunging v-neckline that showed hints of the skin beneath her dress. Her dress frilled out at the hips and there was a long train that trailed behind her as she walked towards him. 

“Leave us,” Myrcella ordered Nym who nodded her consent, and soon it was just Jamie and her alone in the room. 

Jamie stared- she had changed a lot since he had last seen her two years ago. Her face was more mature now, her baby fat was completely gone now and in its place was the face of a woman grown. Her breasts were no longer pudgy but now they were alluring and sizeable. Her eyes had darkened a shade and there was an intelligence there that wasn’t always present. She had also shot up a foot but that might be due to the heels she had on her feet. 

“Uncle Jamie,” She greeted him with a smile pulling him into a hug and out of his stupor. “I’m so glad you came.” 

Jamie awkwardly patted her back and pulled her into his chest. “Your mother wanted to come but was unable to so I came instead.” Jamie lied. Her mother had wanted her to come home and to break the betrothal not participate in her wedding.

She pulled away from his arms and grabbed his hands in hers. “Would you walk me down the aisle?” She pleaded, her eyes wide and gazing up at his own. “I was going to have Uncle Damion do it but now that you’re here I would rather it’s you.” 

Jamie forced himself to smile. “I would be honored.” 

They stood in silence for a while- not knowing what else to say to each other after so long. They had never been particularly close, something Jamie vowed would change. She was his daughter after all. 

“Are you happy?” Jamie blurted out. “Marrying Trystane? Is that what you really want?” 

She smiled and her eyes were alight with happiness. She nodded eagerly bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I am.” She sang happily with a dopy smile. “I love him. He’s so sweet, gentle, kind- and handsome.” She got a dreamy look on her face as she sang her betrothed praises. 

Jamie smiled, at least she would be happy with him. He wasn’t trading Casterly Rock for her to be a glorified slave but for her to be with her beloved. “What about the rest of the Martells? Do you get along with the Princess Arianne? What about her cousins?” He pressed. 

She let go of his hands and took a step back putting her hands on her hips. “They’re good to me.” She said and Jamie could hear her amusement in her tone. “Princess Arianne has been very kind- if distant. Obara doesn’t like me, Tyene is a bit rude at times but still fun. Nym is wonderful and a dear friend.”

Jamie forced himself to smile. He couldn’t hurt her by telling her how all of her dear friends were plotting to murder her if Jamie didn’t give Casterly Rock to House Martell. Let her be happy at least even if she was living a lie. He couldn’t murder her husband if Myrcella loved him and he couldn’t change the heir to anyone else without putting her at risk. If her husband was in on it like he suspected then she would never be free from the noose around her neck. 

“That’s good,” Jamie mumbled. He almost wished they were awful to her, then maybe he could keep his daughter happy and save his house.

“Do you think Mother will like him?” Myrcella asked shyly, her eyes drifted down to look at his shoes.

Jamie forced another smile, that was becoming a regular occurrence. “If she sees you happy, I’m sure she will.” Jamie lied.

Myrcella laughed. She hadn’t bought his lie at all. “And you really believe that?” 

“Have you ever known mother to like anyone besides her children? Jamie chuckled. “I’m sure she’ll like him more then she does Margaery at the very least.” 

Myrcella frowned. “How is Tommen? I haven’t seen him in so long. Does he like his new wife? Is she nice?”

Jamie smiled at easier topic of conversation. “Tommen is doing really well, being king has been a bit of an adjustment for him but he seems happy. He adores his wife from what I can tell, they are rarely apart when they have the choice to be together.” He paused and took a deep breath wracking his mind for what he knew of the Queen. “Queen Margaery is very kind from what I’ve seen of her. She likes to visit with the common folk, bring the poor food, and play with the orphans.” 

He sighed audibly. “When I was last in Kings Landing the High Septon was holding her for infidelity. I don’t actually believe it but apparently there is enough evidence for a trial.” 

Myrcella nodded content with his response. “What about Uncle Tyrion?” She spoke softly, afraid of anyone overhearing. “They say he killed Joffrey and Grandfather.” 

Jamie froze and looked off in the distance past her shoulder. “I don’t know,” he told her honestly. “He was convicted of killing Joffrey but I doubted it. He played a part in my father’s death.” He ran a hand through his hair. “He’s alive though, or at least he was.” 

Tyrion had, of course, told him he had murdered Joffrey. He had assumed that he was just trying to hurt him after he had told him the truth about Tysha but now he wasn’t so sure. _You poor stupid blind crippled fool. Must I spell every little thing out for you? Very well. Cersei is a lying whore, she’s been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and probably Moon Boy for all I know. And I am the monster they all say I am. Yes, I killed your vile son._ If Cersei was actually fucking Lancel as Arianne had claimed then was the rest of that also true? 

Jamie had no doubt that Tyrion had been the one to fire the crossbow that killed their father but Jamie blamed himself for Tywin’s death as much as he did Tyrion. If he had never told Tyrion the truth about Tysha, about what he and his father had done to her, the lie he had told; then Tyrion would have left without killing him first.

She hummed and leaned over to whisper in his ear. “You helped him escape?” She didn’t wait for confirmation before continuing. “When you see him again, will you thank him for me? I hated him for arranging my marriage to Trystane but I was wrong. He gave me to the man I love. Regardless of what else he’s done, who he killed; he at least did that one thing right.” 

Jamie forced another smile. “I’m glad you found him. You’re lucky.” He lied. “Arranged marriages are rarely so… so well arranged.” 

She smiled brightly and they fell into another awkward silence. This was the longest conversation either of them had ever had with each other. Jamie vowed that would change, he would be there for his daughter. If he was going to doom House Lannister for her then he would be there for her as a father, there wasn’t much of a way the consequences could be worse than the present. 

Jamie fished into his pocket and pulled out the golden lion pendant that had drawn him to Dorne in the first place, the threat of retribution for Prince Oberyn. “Try not to lose this again.” He lightly chided her. 

She twirled so her back was to him causing the train to poof up as she did and slap against his shins. She gently lifted her hair so he could clip the necklace around her neck. He did just that and she twirled again so she was facing him. She had a slight frown on as she rubbed her thumb on the lion on the pendant. “I didn’t lose it.” Myrcella protested. “Ellaria took it, she was trying to incite the King into a war with Dorne. Arianne when she took over as the ruling Princess she reprimanded her and told her how foolish she was being. She apologized to me already, she was just blinded by her grief.” She explained. “Arianne let me choose her punishment for the crime but since no one was actually hurt by it, I let her off without any consequence besides agreeing to replace it and write an apology to Tommen.” 

Jamie nodded, not entirely convinced that what she said was entirely true. Princess Arianne had indeed scolded her but that had not been for getting revenge but rather for her reckless plan. Jamie was certain that Elaria had felt no remorse for her hostility towards Myrcella. 

“Listen, there’s something I need to tell you…” Jamie spoke softly, his voice quivering as he finally voiced the truth that could destroy the kingdom. “Something I should have told you long ago. So l-” He trailed off, was he really doing this? Now? “Now that you’ve seen more of the world, you’ve learned how complicated things can be. People can be. The Lannisters and the Martells have hated each other for years, but you’ve fallen in love with Trystane. It was an accident, really, I mean what were the chances? You happen to fall in love with the man you were assigned to marry?” 

She laughed and grabbed his still organic left hand. “I know.” She said quietly squeezing his hand.

Jamie laughed nervously. “Love is complicated. My point is… we don’t choose whom we love. We just… It’s beyond our control.” He groaned out loud. “I sound like such an idiot.”

Myrcella shook her head causing the few loose curls that hung around her face to brush against her pink cheeks. “No, you don’t.” She argued. “We don’t choose whom we love.” She parroted back at him.

Jamie smiled slightly and lifted his golden hand to run it through his hair before remembering that he couldn’t do that anymore. “What I’m trying to say. What I’m trying and failing to say…”

“I know.” She said yet again. She leaned in next to his ear and whispered one word. “Father.”

“How?” He breathed. He was unable to stop the word from slipping past his lips. Jamie didn’t know why it surprised him so much that she knew, everyone else did. From the rumors spread by Stannis, to the High Septon’s holding of Cersei for infidelity, to the obvious lack of Baratheon features in his children. His and Cersei’s relationship might be the worst kept secret in all of the seven kingdom’s.

She pulled away from him and looked at his eyes. “The signs are there when you are looking for them. The constant glances at the other, the longing in your eyes for the other when you’re in the same room. The frequent touches when you think no one is looking. I didn’t understand what it meant before, but after experiencing love for myself, it’s not hard to look back and notice it.” 

Jamie nodded and pulled her into his arms, her head against his breast. He gave her his first real hug as her father. “I know I haven’t been there for you.” He spoke softly, this was new territory to him. “I’ve barely even spoken to you before today. Moving forward I’d like to be there for you. Actually be your father for once.” He pulled away and grabbed her right hand tightly in his left hand. “Is that okay with you?” 

She nodded with a smile and blushed brightly. “I’m glad you’re my father. I would love to have you present in my life moving forward.” Jamie rewarded her words with another long hug, 

He pulled back and grabbed her right hand again. “I’m resigning from the King’s Guard, with only one hand I can’t adequately protect the king. I plan on taking up my Lordship over Casterly rock.” He stared deep into her eyes and steadied himself. He was actually doing this. “I would like to name you as my heir, your children will inherit the Lannister lands and rule the Westerlands.” Saying that aloud had only just made the situation more real to him.

She smiled brightly up at him. “Are you sure? What if you have legitimate children of your own?” She countered. “Why not give the lands to Tommen’s sons?” 

“You’re my only daughter, the only child I have who even knows I’m their father. I will never have any more children. You and Tommen are all I need.” He answered surprisingly honest for once. “I am your father, it’s my job to provide for you. Let me make up my earlier failures as a father and give you this one thing. Tommen will inherit the Baratheon lands.”

She smiled brightly once again and pulled him into another hug. “Thank you, father.” She whispered to him. 

“I’d like for you and Trystane to come home with me to Casterly Rock, learn about the land that you will one day rule. Princess Arianne already gave her consent.” She nodded and quietly gave her consent but did not move from his arms. They stayed there holding each other for a few minutes before a bell rang outside marking the passing of the hour. 

She pulled away from him. “I still have to finish getting ready for the wedding. Thank you for coming father, for being there for me on this day.” 

Jamie smiled genuinely for once. “I’ll leave you to it.” He told her stepping outside the room. As soon as he was outside four women, Nym and three he didn’t recognize but he assumed they were handmaidens entered the room to help Myrcella get ready. 

-

Jamie tried to hide how uncomfortable he was as he walked down the aisle with Myrcella on his arm. He really didn’t want to do this, he should have taken her and absconded from Dorne. He should have done something while he still could have- she might have been upset about leaving behind her paramour but she would have gotten over him eventually- probably. The important thing was she would be safe, and free from harm. Jamie wouldn’t be betraying his house and spitting on his father’s grave that he had dug for him. 

Myrcella stepped on his foot and the jolt of pain from her heel crushing his toe caused him to stop walking. When he turned to her, he saw they were a few paces in front of the groom, he had walked too far, lost in his thoughts. He tried to pretend like that was normal but knew he was unsuccessful as his face took on a pinkish hue. He was Lannister everyone else made a mistake, not him.

Myrcella turned her head and whispered in his ear. “You’re more nervous than me, father.” There was that word again, the word that was why he was following through on Arianne Martell’s crazy plan. The reason he was willing to betray everything else. The word that brought him to his knees and had him willing to do anything. 

He unlinked his arm from hers and took a step backward to give Trystane free access to her. He watched from a somewhat odd position behind the couple, and a few steps from the Septon by the statue of the Mother. 

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection." The Septon declared.

It was a bittersweet feeling as he watched Trystane remove the cloak on Myrcella’s back with the split crest of House Lannister and House Baratheon, the stag and the lion with their backs to each other. His nimble fingers quickly unworked the clasps around her neck and pulled the cloak away from her. He then handed the cloak to Jamie who took it with a surprisingly genuine smile, Myrcella's happiness was contagious. 

He watched somewhat saudadely as Trystane removed his own cloak from his back, the red sun of House Martell splayed proudly on it in red silk, over a black backdrop. The sun lit up the night sky, as the shadows closed in on it. The cloak was beautiful and when he draped it around Myrcella’s shoulders, Jamie was forced to admit that it was a good look on her. She was glowing as she stared at her very soon to be husband with wide eyes, everything else forgotten. 

The Septon then proclaimed, "My lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever." 

Trystane grabbed Myrcella’s hand in his own and interlocked their fingers. The Septon tied a ribbon in a knot around their conjoined hands. “Let it be known that the Princess Myrcella of Houses Baratheon and Lannister and Prince Trystane of House Martell are one heart, one flesh, one soul.” He declared to the congregation that had gathered there for the wedding. “Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder."

The Septon pulled on the ribbon and the know unraveled. “Look upon each other and say the words." He commanded of them.

In unison, Trystane and Myrcella spoke the words that would bind them together for all eternity. “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger.” They recited the names of the seven from memory as was the tradition. 

“I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days” Myrcella spoke loud and clear, her voice drowning out the much softer one of her lover who simultaneously said, “I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.” 

With the vows exchanged Trystane turned his head slightly to look at the crowd for a moment. “With this kiss, I declare my love.” He declared. Trystane let go of Myrcella’s hands and cupped her face in his palms. He gently brought his face to hers and kissed her to the roaring applause. The kiss was longer than was strictly necessary and when they finally parted both their faces were flush and Myrcella’s eyes were sparkling. 

Jamie found himself applauding with the rest of the crowd despite what it obviously meant for his house, and for his legacy; Jamie couldn’t help but feel some joy at his daughter’s obvious exuberance.

-

The feast was in full swing, Jamie sat there nursing a glass of arbor gold watching as Trystane and Myrcella fed each other pigeon pie like toddlers, putting each other’s forks in their mouths and occasionally sharing bites with a kiss. The whole thing was so disgustingly sweet and Jamie was beginning to wonder if Trystane was actually not a part of his sister’s plot, very few people are as good of actors as Trystane would have to be in order to pull this off. 

Jamie had fielded at least a dozen questions about his appearance here and why he wasn’t wearing the white cloak that he had always worn. All of them had been met with the same lie that Arianne had crafted. He was here to see his niece marry on his way home from a confidential sensitive diplomatic mission. He had hung up the white cloak to live out the dying wish of his father and be Lord of Casterly Rock. 

Princess Arianne Martell stood to her feet, and banged her spoon on her glass. “I’d like to call a toast,” She announced. “A toast to their love, their happiness, and the alliance of our great houses. Let us all put our bad history behind us. To the future! To the alliance of Houses Baratheon, Lannister, and Martell! May this alliance last for generations to come!” She cheered and everyone lifted their own goblets to take a long sip with many applauding after they had drunk their fill. 

Arianne remained standing as the servants went around and refilled the recently emptied glasses of wine. “Perhaps Lord Jamie Lannister would like to make a toast as well.” She made it sound like a request but Jamie knew it was anything but that, it was time for him to betray his house.

Jamie stood and Arianne took her seat with a triumphant smirk on her face. “I would like to call a toast…” He licked his lips, his mouth suddenly extremely dry. “To the union of Prince Trystane Martell and my da-niece and heir Myrcella Baratheon! May they live long and happy lives!” 

He had done it- there was no going back now, not with all the nobles that had heard him declaring her as his heir. Until he had a valid excuse- a child of his own. No matter how little regard he had for Myrcella’s happiness, he couldn’t back out of their deal now. Myrcella would live and in a few decades, it would be a Martell or perhaps a Baratheon, not a Lannister who lorded over Casterly Rock. 

Jamie sighed and retook his seat. Once he was seated, frantic whispering broke out. He watched as many of the lords and ladies gathered for the wedding turned to each other and spoke about his declaration like a common girl who had just heard the latest gossip. Within a moon, all of the realms would know that Myrcella was the heir to Casterly Rock, a woman who is not a Lannister would inherit the wealthiest land in all of the seven kingdoms for the first time. He would be scorned both publically and privately for his decision, he would be chided by everyone who bore the name Lannister. Lannisters’ would be cursing his name for generations to come. His name would be remembered in history as the man who gave away an entire kingdom.

Yet as he looked over at a beaming Myrcella chatting quietly with her husband, Jamie knew he would do it all over again if his daughter was safe and happy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do they do with the cloak when the groom removes their old one? I rewatched every wedding from the TV Show and reread the scenes in the books and they always cut away after they remove the cloak and cut back when they put on the new one, the old simply vanishing into thin air. I assumed they gave it to the father/person who walks the bride down the aisle but I actually have no clue. 
> 
> Next chapter we go back to the wall and the Night's Watch for the choosing with Ser Davos. That should be posted on Tuesday.
> 
> Read, Kudos, and Review.


	12. Davos II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davos's reaction to Jon's resurrection and the first night of the Choosing for the next Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.

Davos really should be getting some sleep, he hadn’t slept at all last night either but he couldn’t sleep after the events of the previous day. His entire world had been completely uprooted. Jon Snow had come back from the dead, sure he had suggested that Melisadndre try to bring him back but he hadn’t really expected anything to happen. He certainly hadn’t expected something to happen four days after the failed ritual. 

He had given Jon Snow’s eulogy and lit the pyre and Lord Snow had come back to life within the flames. He had crawled out of the flames, alive and unburnt. Ser Davos knew the legends of Old Valyria and of the unburnt Targaryen Kings that had come before, not every Targaryen was immune to the flames but some of them were. Never before had there been a non-Targaryen unburnt so it stood to reason that Jon Snow was also a Targaryen. Jon Snow had a claim to the Iron Throne and Davos would make sure he took it, the realm needed a man of his character to take it. Jon Snow might be a bastard but so was the boy currently sitting on the throne. 

Davos had already pledged his life and allegiance to a King and that King had failed him. Stannis had earned Davos’s respect and admiration, he had been loyal to the rightful heir of King Robert Baratheon. Stannis had spat on his loyalty. Stannis had thrown his entire kingdom away when he put all his faith in the Red Witch. Stannis had been a fool blinded by his lust for his birthright and his faith in the red god. 

Stannis had burnt his only daughter, his only child, his heir, the Princess Shireen Baratheon. Davos had loved Shireen like she was his own daughter, she had been his lifeline after the death of his sons in the battle of the blackwater. She had taught Davos how to read. She was an innocent child, the sweetest girl Davos had ever known. King- no  _ Lord  _ Stannis had burnt her alive. He had never earned his title as King and when he had murdered his own daughter he had lost any claim he might have had. 

Jon Snow was different from Stannis, he was good. Jon Snow had come out of the fire and upon hearing the Red Witch had been the one to bring him back had been wroth. Jon Snow had somehow ferreted out the information that she had sacrificed Shireen with Stannis’s consent, to bring Azor Ahai victory. Yet Jon Snow despite his life being saved by Shireen’s death had burnt the witch alive for her evil deeds. 

Ser Davos had wanted to join the Night’s Watch and serve with Jon Snow before his death but after his resurrection, Ser Davos wanted to serve Jon Snow. By giving Davos Shireen’s killer and condemning the woman who saved his life because she murdered an innocent child, he had gained the undying loyalty of Ser Davos. When Jon left The Wall to take back the North like Davis and most everyone expected, Davos would go with him as long as the king would have him. Jon Snow was a good man and burning an evil person alive did nothing to color his opinion of his goodness. If anything it only improved his opinion of him, he had sought justice even when it hurt his own cause. He had prioritized what was right over his own self-interests, even his own life. Davos was confident he would make a great king and Davos would make sure that he became king whether he wanted to be king or not. 

All of that had lead to Davos standing outside in the middle of the night, well past nightfall, begging entrance to the Kings Tower to speak with the King. He didn’t know if Jon Snow would be awake, but after seven days of being dead, Davos presumed he might be. Davos needed to speak to the king, to convince him to take the throne and to swear his allegiance to him.

He rapped lightly on the door with his knuckles, if the King was sleeping he likely wouldn’t be disturbed but if he was awake he should hear him. Davos was pleased when the King opened the door himself only a few moments later. 

“Ser Davos.” He greeted warmly. “Do come in.” He pulled the door open and stepped aside bidding Davos entrance to the somewhat luxurious chambers of the Kings Tower. 

The last time Davos had been in here he had been begging Stannis to leave Shireen and Selyse behind when he marched on Winterfell and Stannis had insisted on his wife and daughter going with him. Davos couldn’t help but wonder if Stannis had already decided to sacrifice Shireen when they had that conversation. If he had just insisted a bit more could he have saved Shireen? Davos shook his head, it wouldn’t do to go down that rabbit hole of what if’s, and maybes.

“Who do you think should be the next Lord Commander?” King Jon asked of him. 

Davos frowned. “I’m not sure you should be asking me that, I’m no man of the Night’s Watch.”

“Which is exactly why I’m asking you, you’ve observed us for a year and are an unbiased observer.” King Jon explained calmly. “You’re also a great judge of character.” 

Davos’s frown deepened. “I’m not so sure about that.” He had thought Stannis was a good man, a great one even, and then Stannis had burnt his only daughter alive. 

Jon put a hand on his shoulder. “You weren’t wrong about Stannis, he was always obstinate and just. You just didn’t realize how far Stannis would go in his stubbornness or how deep his religious fanaticism went.” 

Davos still blamed himself and doubted how good he really was at judging a man’s character but it didn’t matter. It was not the duty of the king to reassure Davos and comfort him. Davos was the one who was supposed to advise and comfort the King not the other way around. 

“I can’t speak of the men garrisoned at the other castles, I don’t know them. From Castle Black, it seems to me that Ser Denner Frostfinger would be the best choice. He went with you to Hardhome, to save the wildlings and seems like he would be willing to work with them. Denner commands respect from all who work with him and he is an approachable kind person with charisma.” Davos told the King honestly. “He’s more than a bit self-centered and is a bit amoral at times but he’s a good leader. I don’t think he’s a great choice but he’s the best of what appears to be a rotten bunch.” 

Jon nodded. “I was afraid you would say that.” He sighed audibly. “Ser Denner was one of the men in the crowd that watched me be murdered. He may not have knifed me himself but he stood by and watched as I was murdered. He knew about the plot that resulted in my death and chose to stand by and let it happen.” 

“He’s the best choice for Lord Commander I have little doubt about that but I can’t reward a man who watched me be murdered by supporting his campaign for my former title,” Jon explained, his voice rising in volume as he went on.

Davos nodded, that seemed more than reasonable. Just another instance of when Davos had been wrong about someone. “So who will you support then?” Davos asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No one yet, I’ll wait, see who is running for Lord Commander, and probably eventually reluctantly back Ser Denner Frostfinger. Winter is coming and there are things more important than a personal vendetta” King Jon explained, clearly bitter with his choice.

That was why Davos knew Jon Snow needed to be king. He was willing to not let his own personal biases affect his decisions and he would put the good of his kingdom first over what he wanted for himself. 

“I didn’t come here to discuss the next Lord Commander, Your Grace,” Davos spoke up trying to drift the topic back to what he had wanted to speak about, why he had come at this hour to speak with the King.

King Jon cut him off. “I’m not a King, I don’t want to be King. I never even wanted to be Lord Commander.” 

“It’s not about what you want, it’s your duty to take the throne. You have the best claim, you are the best candidate available. Under Tommen the realm has gone to hell, The Sparr-.” Jon raised a hand and the rest of Davos’s speech died on his tongue as he obediently fell silent. 

“I’ve heard Stannis’s spiel before. Let me finish.” Jon reprimanded him. “I didn’t want to become Lord Commander but I accepted the role to keep the Watch out of Slynt’s grubby hands. I knew Slynt wouldn’t be prepared for the Others when winter came and did what I had to in order to ensure the survival of all of mankind.” 

“Despite what my former brothers may believe, I did not let the wildlings through our gates because I wanted to befriend them or because I was one of them. I did it because we needed more fighting men to defeat the Great Other and his army. I did not support Stannis because he was the rightful heir to the Iron Throne or even because I hated the Boltons and Lannisters. I did it because he was the only king who understood the threat that we were facing and we need the aid of all of Westeros to defeat the Others when Winter comes.”

Jon sighed audibly. “If I have to become King of all the Seven Kingdoms for mankind to survive the Long Night then I will don the crown. If I have to abdicate my claim to get the aid of my Aunt Daenerys and her Dragons then I will gladly do so. Whatever it takes of me I will do it, because if I don’t then we won’t survive the Long Night and all of life will die.”

Davos knelt down before his king. “I swear my undying loyalty to you. I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours if need be. Anything you ask of me I will do it. I swear it by the old gods and the new.” He vowed.

King Jon actually chuckled at his declaration. “I don’t want your undying loyalty, I don’t need a yes-man, I expect I'll have plenty of those soon.” Davos looked up at him. “If I ever lose my way, if I ever let the power get to my head or go the way of Stannis...” Jon grimaced. “I want you to call me out on decisions you don’t agree with. If you ever feel that I’m beyond any chance of redemption and that your advice is falling on death ears then, by all means, betray me.” 

King Jon paused and took a deep breath to steady himself. “If I ever go the way of my grandfather and go completely mad… I want you to kill me.” 

Davos smiled up at the King who only continued to impress him. “That is why you have my loyalty, Your Grace.” Davos rose to his feet before the King. “I will do as you asked and if it comes to it, which it won’t; but if it does then I will betray or even kill you.” 

King Jon smiled for the first time during that conversation. “Thank you, Ser Davos. I’m not a King yet, I can’t be one until we win the loyalty of all the northern houses. If the Lannisters ally with the Boltons, which they will if I declare myself as a Targaryen King. Then we will lose, and when Winter comes, all life will be extinguished.” Jon explained. “One day, I will demand to be called Your Grace but for now I’m just Jon.”

Davos supposed he could live with that. King Jon wasn’t running from his calling and duty but just exercising caution. His reasoning was sound so Davos could live with him being just Jon for now. No, not just Jon.

“Can I see your sword for a moment?” Jon raised an eyebrow in askance as to why but consented and handed Longclaw over. 

“In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave.” Davos declared and Jon realizing what was going on, sunk to a knee. Davos tapped his left shoulder with the flat of the blade.

“In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just.” He tapped the right shoulder with the blade. 

“In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent.” He tapped the left shoulder again before lowering the sword and placing it by his side.

“Arise Ser Jon of Houses Stark and Targaryen, Knight of The Seven Kingdoms.” Davos declared and Jon rose to his feet with a grin that Davos knew was matched on his own face.

The title wasn’t for Jon’s sake, he doubted that Jon or him cared about being called a Ser at all but for the sake of the Lords he would have to enter negotiations with before he revealed his true heritage to all the world. Rather than being just Ned Stark’s bastard, now he was an honorable knight and it gave him some extra respect in forming alliances. Not a lot but every little bit counts. 

-

The day had gone by far too quickly. Jon being called Ser had been met with very little fanfare. Jon and Davos had spent many hours deep into the night and through the morning discussing strategies for taking the north. One thing they had agreed on is that they needed the Wildlings in their army, they maybe could get the same amount of men from a different house or combination of houses who would refuse to fight with Wildlings but the Wildlings unique skills that they could not find anywhere else. In the afternoon, Jon had gone to meet with Tormund and asked him to gather all the wildlings so he could speak to them, he hadn’t said why but Davos knew he was trying to get them to help him take the north. Davos well Jon was busy with the had asked Ser Denner Frostfinger to teach him some of the basics of Swordplay, if he was going to be by Jon’s side in battle then he needed to learn some combat skills. Plus it gave him a chance to get a measure of the man who would likely be the next Lord Commander. Davos was worn thin after two nights where he did not sleep at all, and an afternoon of grueling physical activity. All he really wanted to do was sleep but still had a few more hours until he could.

The brothers of the Night’s Watch were gathering in the Great Hall now for the choosing. Jon, Davos, Sansa, Brienne, and her squire Podrick had been permitted to attend the choosing as long as they didn’t interfere, and obviously, they had no vote. Last time they had been offered to attend at first, an invitation Davos had graciously accepted but once Stannis had threatened to choose for them if they did not choose immediately they had found their admittance barred from the proceedings. This time, even if Jon decided to cast his own vote and speak for a candidate or even submit a name for the choosing, Davos doubted their admittance would be barred. Jon commanded too much respect and even more fear after the events of yesterday.

Ser Denys Mallister stood to his feet and he slammed his mug on the table causing the room to fall silent immediately. “This is certainly a bit irregular,” Mallister said in greeting. “We are gathered here to choose the 999th Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Yet, the 998th Lord Commander sits here among us, despite us all bearing witness to the fact that he was dead for a week.” There were a few light chuckles at that remark and some scoffs in disbelief but the somber mood quickly drowned them out and the room fell silent once again. 

“The old Maester Aemon died and has yet to be replaced. The first ranger, the first steward, and the first builder are all being held for treason; somehow leaving I, Ser Denys Mallister as the Castellan with the most seniority as interim Lord Commander until the next one can be chosen.”

“Without a Maester here, the duty of counting falls to the first steward of Castle Black. Since Bowen Marsh is being held for treason, that duty falls to Brandon Perryn as the first steward with the most seniority, serving at Eastwatch by the Sea for fourteen years, assisting him in the counting will be Jadyn Quagg as the first steward of Shadow Tower and Tytus Kyndall as the first steward of the Night Fort.” 

Ser Denys paused and took a deep breath before continuing the introduction. “There are 612 brothers gathered here today for the choosing. For a new Lord Commander to be elected, they will need to receive 409 votes to meet the minimum two-thirds election requirement. If no Lord Commander is chosen today then we will adjourn for the day and meet again tomorrow. If you submit your name to the choosing and fail to garner at least seven votes to meet the minimum one percent requirement then you will be barred from being nominated until we meet to decide the one-thousandth Lord Commander. 

“We will now open up the floor for any names people would like to submit to the choosing.” Ser Denys Mallister finished and as soon as he had finished a number of people stood up to submit their own names. Davos sighed, this was going to be another long night. 

Ser Denys Mallister pointed to Cotter Pyke with a slight frown and everyone else sat down so he could speak. 

“Thank you, Mallister.” The intentional snub by dropping his title was noticed by almost everyone. “Most of you know who I am, I’ve captained Eastwatch for the last six years after being appointed by Lord Jeor Mormont. I led the defense of The Wall during the invasion of Skagos when they tried to move south from their island and settle in the gift. I repelled the savages and taught them not to leave their cursed island. I fought in the battle of Thenn and countless others. I’ve sailed through many storms and I’ve overseen the trade and distribution of all our resources in that time.” 

“Overseen means letting the stewards handle everything,” someone Davos didn’t recognize stage whispered earning a handful of chuckles. 

Cotter Pyke scowled. “I’m a man who will not bow down to any Lord who thinks he has a place to command the Night’s Watch when he’s not one of us.” Pyke looked at the guest table and glared at Davos and Jon. “I will bring the Night’s Watch back to the glory days when we defended the wall from the Wildlings, not let them through it.” He glared at Jon again. 

Ser Denys Mallister hid a snicker with a cough. “Thank you, Cotter Pyke,” He said cutting off his tirade. “Anyone else?” 

Once again people all around the room stood to submit their candidacy. He pointed to Ser Denner Frostfinger. 

“Thank you, Ser Mallister. I’ve served in the Night’s Watch for four years, most of it was spent as a Ranger. When the Lord Commander Jon Snow appointed Ser Alliser Thorne as the First Ranger, I shifted to the position as Master of Arms. I haven’t fought in as many battles as most of the brothers have. What I have done in my short time here was show two key abilities.” 

“I’ve shown the ability to teach as the recent recruits can likely attest to and I’ve shown the ability to survive. The Night’s Watch often finds itself struggling when a new Lord Commander takes control. Jon Snow was the exception to the rule, often times the Lord Commander has a new vision that he can’t yet enact. Often times the new Lord Commander undoes much of the progress the last one made as they disagreed with most of their decisions.” 

“My vision is largely similar to that of the previous Lord Commander. Before Lord Snow led an expedition beyond The Wall to bring the Wildlings south for the winter, I was among those who considered the Wildlings our greatest, even our only enemy. But I went to Hardhome with the Lord Commander to Hardhome and I saw The Others. I saw their army of the dead, they slaughtered a hundred thousand Wildlings with no mercy. We have to stand united now more than ever, we need the Wildlings, we need the Boltons, we need the Baratheon King, and the Targaryen King as well.” He glanced over at Jon as he said that. Davos was impressed Jon managed to not show any frustration at his flattery when he had allowed him to be murdered. 

“We cannot afford to let any personal vendettas impact our decision making. We need a Lord Commander who has no feuds with any of the Southern or Northern Lords. We need allies from all directions. As a baseborn former Hedge Knight, I hold no grudges against any of the important houses. None of them know who I am and as such have no quarrel with me.” He looked back at the still calm Jon Snow. “I knew about the plot to kill the Lord Commander, but I stood by and let it happen.” 

Frantic whispers broke out around the room as the shock set in. Even Jon Snow had been unable to hide his shock at him publically outing himself. “Traitor!” Numerous voices cried out, some demanding for his head. 

“I won’t pretend Jon Snow was my friend, but he was my brother.” Ser Denner called out over the crowd. “I believed in what Jon Snow was trying to do. After Hardhome, I agreed with his mission and was proud to serve under him. I respected him. He never made a decision I did not agree with when he was Lord Commander. He was the greatest Lord Commander I’ve ever served under and maybe the greatest ever. Yet, I allowed him to be killed.”

“With Jon Snow at the helm, we would not have survived the winter. Through no fault of his own, the Lannisters, Boltons, and Baratheon’s would not send aid to the Night’s Watch with Jon Snow in charge. Ser Jon Snow was believed to be the son of Lord Eddard Stark, a man who committed treason. He was believed to be the brother to Robb Stark, The King in The North. He may have not had a choice, but he housed Lord Stannis for a year. House Tully or House Frey whichever one you claim holds the Riverlands has quarrels with Ser Jon Snow, whether for him being a bastard or for his cousin’s actions in shaming their house. The Vale is also held by a Tully. Dorne hates the Starks for the actions of Lord Snow’s apparent mother, Lyanna Stark shaming Elia Martell. The Iron Islands hate the Starks for Lord Eddard Stark crushing their insurgence and keeping the last son of their king captive for ten years. The only place Ser Jon Snow would not find enemies is the Reach and they wouldn’t dare risk their alliance with the crown to send us aid.” 

“Ask yourself this, if King Tommen had offered to send us a thousand men to man the wall if Ser Jon delivered the head of Sansa Stark to him as reparation for her part in the murder of King Joffrey, would Jon Snow have accepted her offer? Would any of you do the same if it was your loved ones? I have no one outside of the watch, no great family name, no connections in the capital, there is nothing that I would put above the watch. I will do anything for us to survive the winter.”

“I let my Lord Commander, Jon Snow die for the good of the watch. With Ser Jon Snow at the helm despite his brilliant leadership and excellent battle strategies, we would not survive the winter. The Others and the army of the dead outnumber us one hundred to one, even with the Wildlings. We need more allies and we couldn’t find them under Ser Jon Snow. So with a heavy heart, I allowed Ser Alliser to continue his plot and murder the Lord Commander.” 

“I can’t promise that everyone will send us all of their armies, I can’t promise that any will heed the call if I’m Lord Commander, but I can promise that I’ll try to reach everyone and give up whatever we have to, in order to make sure that we all survive the upcoming Winter. Ser Jon was the first sacrifice I made to survive the Winter and he won’t be the last. I would allow women to take the Black, I would allow Wildlings to take the black, I would even accept the aid of wild animals- dogs and the like if that’s what it takes. These times are desperate and we will all do what we must to survive.”

As Ser Denner Frostfinger sat back down many around the room burst into applause at the speech. There were still a few demanding his head but the noises of agreement drowned them out. Davos looked over at Jon and noticed that even he looked reluctantly impressed. It took Ser Ser Denys Mallister a few minutes to regain some semblance of order and continue with the rest of the candidates that were submitting their own names to the choosing.

Almost a hundred names stepped forward offering themselves as a good choice for Lord Commander. Some of them cited their experience in battle, others cited their seniority. Some cited their connections outside of the wall and their family name. Some candidates offered bribes and others promised retribution. As many names were given in jest as there were serious candidates. It took almost six hours for the herd to thin down and Davos only remembered a handful of the submissions. 

“Is there anyone else who would like to submit a name for the choosing?” Ser Denys called out and no one stood. “In that case, I-” He was cut off by Dolorous Edd standing. 

“I would like to submit a name to the choosing.”

If Ser Denys Mallister was at all upset by the interruption he gave no sign of it. “Very well, Eddison Tollett the floor is yours.” Ser Denys declared sitting himself back down. 

“Thank you, Ser Mallister. At the last choosing, I put my own name forth and claimed I would make a horrible Lord Commander but so would all of you.” Edd received a few chuckles at that declaration. 

“I was wrong. Jon Snow was a great Lord Commander, the best even. His time with the watch has come to an end and we find ourselves forced to choose yet again. Despite me being wrong about Jon Snow, I still do believe that none of us would make a good Lord Commander. None of us could ever hope to surpass Jon Snow.” Ed proclaimed, his face long and solemn. 

  
“Get to the point already!” Someone called out from the crowd. A few people jeered at his insulting them all. Even Davos had to wonder at what was the point in this, was he trying to convince Jon to be Lord Commander again? They needed him on the throne not here at the wall. 

“I’ve thought long and hard about who could possibly succeed a King as Lord Commander, a King as good as Jon Snow is. We all agree that we need a Lord Commander with a sweet tongue, one who can convince the Lords in the south to send us their armies. Most of us agree that we need someone who can work with the Wildlings now settled in the gift. We need a man who is fearless and willing to bend the rules for the good of the watch.”

“When we were locked in that room with the Lord Commander’s corpse, I came to the realization that no one in the watch is at all like Jon Snow. I wanted to throw our lives away in a mad attempt to take out Ser Alliser Thorne. I don’t have the temperament to be Lord Commander. No one in the watch can replace Jon Snow.” He grinned widely and looked at the guest table where Jon, Lady Brienne, Podrick, Sansa, and Davos himself were seated. “Which is why I propose we look outside the watch and nominate Ser Davos Seaworth as the 999th Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.”

Davos had thought he had seen pandemonium before at the battle of the Black Water or even earlier today when Ser Denner had ousted himself for his part in Jon Snow’s murder. Those were certainly hectic situations but there was something different when they were all focused entirely on him. Nothing compared to five hundred men in his face screaming exclusively at him, calling him an outsider and Edd a traitor. Ser Denys Mallister was banging on the table to call a return to order but no one paid him any heed. They were too incensed. 

Davos didn’t know how to feel about his nomination. He had never asked to be Lord Commander, he had never asked to even be a Lord of anything. His sons had all died in service to Stannis and he had nothing left outside of serving his King, Jon. He had wanted to join the Night’s Watch when Jon had been Lord Commander but that had been because of Jon. He now served his King outside of The Wall, he was going to thrust his King onto the throne. 

But The Wall was important too. Davos had seen The Others, he knew that their army was marching on The Wall. Without the proper leadership on The Wall, it would fall. Davos didn’t know if he was the right man for the job but he knew that someone like Cotter Pyke would be a horrible choice. Ser Denner was maybe a solid option but while he talked a pretty talk, he had never shown the ability to live what he preached. Davos was skeptical that even if Jon hadn’t been the Lord Commander, even if Ser Alliser with all his southern connections had been Lord Commander, he doubted that they would have found any help. 

You had to see the threat to believe it, their only hope of getting all the numbers they need to win the great war was to have Jon Targaryen sitting on the Iron Throne. If Ser Denner was in charge would he let the Lannister Army use the watches resources to defeat Jon when he made the move south? If he believed that the Lannisters would win would they possibly even fight against Jon? He said he would do whatever it takes to survive the winter, make whatever sacrifice they needed to make in order to survive. He had already let Jon die once, could he do it again? Davos wasn't sure he wanted the answer to that question. 

How much help would Davos really be to Jon if he went with him? He had no knowledge of battle strategies or any skill in the field. His skills were sweet-talking people and smuggling. He was no Lord despite the title and lands Stannis had given him. He was no knight either. Jon would be at war and was charismatic and scary enough to get followers without him. Davos had been the perfect foil to Lord Stannis. Stannis was so intensely dislikable and un-charismatic that he needed a silver-tongued hand to serve him. Here Davos could do some good, here Davos could save lives. Jon did not need him, the watch did.

Ser Davos glanced over at Jon who locked eyes with him and gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head. Davos stood to his feet and most of the room fell silent wanting to hear what he had to say. “I planned on asking the Lord Commander, Ser Jon to let me join the Night’s Watch the night he died. I believed in the possibility of the Others being real even before we came here, and after so many here saw them at Hardhome, I know it to be true. I have nothing left for me in the outside world and I believe in the cause. I’ll join the Night’s Watch whether I’m Lord Commander or not, and if Ser Denys will allow it I would like to accept the unorthodox selection and add my name to the choosing.” Ser Davos sat down without another word and everyone turned their eyes to Ser Denys awaiting his verdict. 

Ser Denys’s eyes appraised the room’s occupants. “This is unorthodox Ser Davos but not strictly prohibited. If you swear your vows once tonight’s choosing is done then you may put your name forth in this choosing. You will not hold a vote until you are sworn in tonight, however.” 

Davos nodded his head in agreement with his terms. “Thank you, Ser Denys.” There was no reason he would not agree, he would likely only get a few votes and drop out. If he said no then men might not vote for Ser Denys purely out of spite or because it made Ser Denys look insecure. 

“Is there anyone else who would like to submit a name for the choosing?” Ser Denys called out and no one stood. “In that case, I would like to nominate myself for the position of Lord Commander. I joined the Watch as a boy and have served loyally longer than any other ranger. Through 10 winters I’ve served. As commander of the Shadow Tower, I kept the Free Folk away at the attack on the wall led by Mance Rayder. I led the ranging to the Frostfangs to defeat the Free Folk clan that had taken to hunting our rangers for sport. I was the first man to successfully map the territory belonging to the Thenns.” 

“None of that matters now. The Night’s Watch is no longer what it was when I was a boy. The wildlings I fought against all my life are now the Free Folk and our allies. The tales of the Others I was told as a horror story when I was a wee lad are actually true. Every battle I won is meaningless now that we have seen the true enemy, we were only squabbling amongst ourselves before. Now the real war begins.”

“For years, even before the days of Aegon the conqueror the Night’s Watch has stood strong with one goal. With one code. Times have changed. If I am inducted as the 999th Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch we will attempt to adjust to the new world while also keeping the traditions that we’ve committed to for so long.”

“As Lord Commander, I will not allow women to serve in the watch as many of the men here have proposed we do in this time of crisis. I will work with the wildlings and give them some control of some of our abandoned castles along the wall if they take our vows. The vows each of our brothers swore when they joined the watch is what has let the watch stand for thousands of years. We will still hold no lands or titles. We will still father no children nor will we take a wife. We will continue to not take part in the wars of men. Even the most heinous crimes will be forgiven if one chooses to take the black. Our vows are the foundation of the Night’s Watch. For thousands of years the Night’s Watch had stood and if we are smart and stay true to ourselves then the Night’s Watch will stand for at least a thousand more. We will adapt but the foundation must remain the some especially in such a troubled time.”

With his campaign speech wrapped up, Ser Denys banged on the table once again to call everyone back to the main topic. “Is there anyone else who would like to submit a name to the choosing?” This time there were no responses. “We will-” 

“Lord Commander Mallister,” Jon called out from his place beside Davos. “I know this is extremely unorthodox and I have no place to say anything as I’m no longer a brother of the Night’s Watch but if it would be okay with the Lord Commander then I would like to speak for one of the men chosen.”

Ser Denys Mallister scowled before quickly hiding his feelings behind a mask. Davos grinned. Jon had backed Ser Denys into a corner, if he denied Jon the opportunity to speak then people would assume that Jon wasn’t supporting him and likely vote against him because of it. If he wasn’t allowed to speak here then Jon would just speak to everyone on the morrow since the Lord Commander would almost certainly not be chosen tonight and again Ser Denys would look bad for denying him the opportunity to speak and the men still revered Jon especially after his resurrection. This was a no win situation for Ser Denys, unless Jon would speak for him he lost here. His only hope was to latch onto the technically correct title that Jon had called him and hope that meant he was speaking for himself.

Ser Denys forced himself to smile. “I think everything surrounding this situation is unorthodox. I don’t think a man of the Night’s Watch has ever come back from the dead before. There is no protocol here so I see no reason not to allow it.”

“Thank you, Lord Denys,” Jon said with a small smile before addressing the rest of the men in the room. “Ser Davos may not have taken our oaths but he’s done more for the Night’s Watch then most men ever have- more than I ever did. Ser Davos was the one who convinced the late King Stannis Baratheon to heed our call for aid. Without Ser Davos, we would all be dead at the hand of Mance Rayder and his army.” 

“King Stannis chose to make Ser Davos his hand despite his baseborn status and lack of political experience. When I served as Lord Commander Ser Davos was one of my most trusted advisors. We talk about how we need a sweet-talker who can convince the Lords and the Crown to send men to the wall to help us deal with the Others. All of you try to claim that you would be able to convince them. Ser Davos does not need to claim that as he already has. He convinced House Hornwood and House Tallhart to fight for Stannis. He is the one who convinced Stannis that the grumkins and snarks were real. Stannis was arguably the most stubborn man in all of Westeros, and Ser Davos convinced him that a fairy tale was real and that he should stake his crown on helping the watch. He’s already convinced a King before to aid the watch once before, why couldn’t he do it again?”

“Ser Davos has never said our oaths, he’s never gone beyond The Wall and he’s only ever fought in one battle. Ser Davos doesn’t have the experience in battle that you all might have but does the Lord Commander need to be battle-tested? Ser Davos is a leader with tons of charisma and right now I’d argue that is more important, that his persuasion skills are the most important thing for the Watch. That is what the watch needs in a Lord Commander. A smart man who knows how to lead, who knows how to command and Ser Davos is the best one here in that regard.”

There was some applause at the end of Jon’s speech, not as many as there was for Ser Denner but there was definitely some, and Davos couldn’t help but feel like he actually had a chance to win this.

Ser Denys banged on the table once again to silence the crowd. “Is there no one else who would like to submit a name to the choosing?” He asked for the fourth time. Again there were no responses. “In that case, we will now proceed to cast our tokens for the choosing. Please submit your token to the bowl of the candidate of your choosing and then return to you seat. If you are illiterate then you are welcome to ask Jadyn Quagg or Tytus Kyndall for directions of whose bowl is whose. Once everyone has cast their tokens Brandon Perryn will count the lots and announce the results of tonight’s choosing. If no candidate receives the mandatory 409 votes needed to be elected as Lord Commander then we will adjourn for the day and meet again tomorrow night to cast our tokens again. If you submitted your name to the choosing and fail to garner at least seven votes to meet the minimum one percent requirement then you will be barred from being nominated again until we meet to decide the one-thousandth Lord Commander of The Night’s Watch.”

Davos watched as the brothers all stood from their seats to submit their tokens for the first night of the choosing. Davos found himself instinctively reaching for his pouch of finger bones only to remember he didn’t have that anymore, he had lost it at the Battle of the Blackwater. Sleep would probably not come easy again tonight regardless of what happened. He would be a brother of the Night’s Watch by the morrow and possibly even Lord Commander. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I had no plan to go this direction with the Night's Watch and the choosing but after reading the bio of literally every member of the Night's Watch there were none that sounded like a decent choice for the position so my options were an OC which I hate using as major role characters or someone from outside the watch. I thought about Ser Jorah and well it would be poetic, it obviously wasn't something I could make happen in a reasonable timeframe. Enter Ser Davos.
> 
> I love Ser Davos as Jon's hand and think he might be the best choice to serve as his hand but it's too valuable of a position politically to give it away to a complete non-factor who brings no armies with him. If Jon was just vying for the North then Davos is a great hand but if he's jockeying to be King of all the Seven Kingdoms, then he needs someone with more political ramifications. Positions on the grand council are offered as incentives to prospective allies and Jon can't afford to freely give away the most powerful bargaining chip he has unless he plans on selling his hand in marriage which he obviously doesn't. 
> 
> Jon getting knighted is small and not a big deal but it gives him some political power while he's just pretending to just be a bastard, not a lot but a bastard knight at least gives him some status for now. 
> 
> Jon essentially giving Davos permission to betray and even kill him is largely to reassure Davos that he's not Stannis just because he is a King now. It's also partly who Jon is to always put the greater good over his own self-interests. If he went mad then he probably would want to be killed to save the world and the people he cares about from suffering under him. Regardless, he has no plans to go that way so these contingencies are just that, contingencies and not something he plans on ever having matter beyond reassuring Davos that he is not Stannis.
> 
> In the show, we very clearly see Stannis at the choosing of the next Lord Commander so it seems like guests are allowed to observe? I'm going with that for mostly plot convenience but since it happens in the show I'll allow it. Maybe they only let Stannis do it because he saved all of them and was King or whatever but the same logic could apply to Jon who just defeated death so people find it very hard to tell him no.
> 
> Ser Denner admitted to his knowledge of the plot in killing Jon so it can't be used against him. If Jon's chosen candidate was losing and Ser Denner was winning all Jon would have to do is reveal that Ser Denner watched him die and did nothing and his support would evaporate. By being the one who shares the information he can spin it in a light that makes him look like the good guy and make Jon lose his leverage. 
> 
> What is the proper chain of command in the Night's Watch? I made something up since the only thing we actually see is Maester Aemon is in charge of the choosing but Castle Black has no Maester at this time. So who is in charge? 
> 
> How anyone could ever think Cotter Pyke would make a fine Lord Commander or even castellan I will never know. The dude like every person from the Iron Islands is described as a complete idiot every time he is mentioned and I realize biased narration is a factor but wow he's dumb and reckless. I read an interesting theory that talks about how the Iron islands practice of drowning people has left all of them brain dead/severely mentally damaged since partial drowning often causes brain issues, oftentimes for life afterward. It would certainly explain the behavior of every single person from the Iron Islands with the possible exception of Yara/Asha. 
> 
> Next chapter we go back to Jon with the start of his plans for the Northern conquest. It should be the longest chapter yet at over eight-thousand words. Should be out this Friday. 
> 
> Read, Kudos and Review.


	13. Jon V

Chapter 13: Jon V

“Rhaegal!” His Daenerys called softly, her voice waking him from his nap.    
  
His head shot up and he nuzzled his snout into his mother's chest. She was visiting him during the day, he could hardly believe it. He had thought that she would spend her whole day ruling. Jon had listened in for a while from the roof but most of what was happening had been in some foreign language. He believed it to be High Valyrian but he couldn’t say for sure- all he knew was that he did not speak it so he had decided to get a much-needed nap. 

But she was here now and Jon could not be any happier. She stroked his head and Jon leaned it to it. Actually that was a lie- she had brought others with her. He would be happier if she did not bring other people with her. There was a woman and a small boy with her, they were not the friends of a dragon. 

Jon growled lowly at them and puffed some black smoke out of his nostrils. 

“This is Lord Tyto and Lady Mara.” His Daenerys explained to him, never ceasing her stroking. “They came to thank you for saving them last night.” 

The woman bowed before him and Jon was glad she knew her place was beneath him. He would never like her but she was acceptable as subservient to himself. She spoke in the same foreign dialect as he heard when he had listened in on his Daenerys’s ruling of her people. 

He quickly lost interest in her, he was never going to be entertained by a sheep when there was a dragon present. He turned his head back to his Daenerys and pressed it into her chest, nuzzling into her as she stroked him. 

His Daenerys stepped away from him and picked up the small boy she had named Tyto. He turned his head and glared at the offending child for stealing his Daenerys’s affection. She was his, not this child’s. 

She stepped back towards him and Jon greedily rubbed his head on the shoulder not holding the child. She was supposed to pay attention to him, not this Tyto person. 

The boy reached out and gingerly touched the top of his head. Jon growled with protest. Who did that insect think it was to touch a dragon? 

  
The boy mumbled something in a foreign tongue and pulled his hand away  _ Good,  _ Jon harumphed to himself. The boy was not worthy of touching him. 

His Daenerys said something in that same foreign language, the only words he recognized were zaldrīzes and perzys which Rhaegal knew meant dragon and fire. The boy then touched his head again. 

Jon snapped. He would show this worm why one does not touch the dragon. He snapped his head up and bit into the hand that had dared to defile him.

The boy screamed in pain as Jon tasted his flesh and reveled in it. His Daenerys screamed at him and put him in chains. He was back in that cave, this time unable to move his neck at all and free himself. 

Jon woke up with his head pounding and his heart racing. That had only been a dream. He hadn’t really bitten off Tyto’s hand as the dragon had craved. The Dragon had wanted oh so badly- he had wanted to show that foolish child why one does not poke the sleeping dragon. The dragon had demanded that he teach that commoner to show him some respect. He had held the dragon back from his desires, not because he cared at all about the boy but because he had feared his Daenerys’s reaction if he had. He had feared that she would turn on him, lock him up again. That he would hurt her again. That was the only reason he had stayed his hand and remained calm. 

His Daenerys had been a fool for bringing that boy to him, if he had just been Rhaegal he would have given in to the Dragons urge for blood when he was touched. The dragon did not like a child without the blood of old Valyria touching him. The dragon had demanded his head and Jon had barely been able to contain himself. The dragon had been insulted by his Daenerys treating him like a dog. Thankfully, his Daenerys had realized how upset he was before he had snapped and sent the child and his mother away. 

Jon looked out the window of the room he had been given by Ser Denys Mallister. The night was still black with only the moon and the stars casting a pale light on the world below. There would likely be a few more hours until sunrise. 

Last night had been the first night of the choosing for the next Lord Commander of The Night’s Watch and it had been much different than Jon had expected. Ser Denner Frostfinger had confessed to being a witness to Jon’s death and to knowing the plot that Thorne had hatched before it had happened. He had spoken against himself and by doing so had made his crimes seem like a positive and destroyed the leverage Jon had over him. He had made a bold gambit that had paid off immensely as he had tallied 109 votes, the second most of any candidate.

The most had gone to the surprise candidate, Ser Davos Seaworth who collected 114 of the 409 votes required to be inducted. Jon hadn’t planned on Ed nominating Ser Davos but it was a very welcome surprise. Davos was everything they needed in a Lord Commander and was loyal to Jon. Jon would miss Davos’s council but the wall needed him more than he did. 

Davos could have frankly been a shit Lord Commander and Jon might have still supported him. The nomination of Ser Davos as a candidate for Lord Commander had introduced uncertainty and that was what needed. Davos would draw enough votes to stop another candidate from getting the position for the time being. He would not win yet, he was too new to the Night’s Watch to get all the more senior or traditionalist voters to choose him even with Jon’s support. 

That was what Jon needed, he needed the choosing to be a long one that took many moons to end. While the choosing for the Lord Commander was ongoing, the Night’s Watch was on lockdown. The ravenry was shut down and no ravens could be sent from the wall until a new Lord Commander is chosen since they all technically needed the approval of the Lord Commander to be sent out. That meant that as long as the choosing took, no one would know about his death, resurrection, and more importantly his Targaryen heritage outside of the Free Folk and who would believe them. Time was the most precious resource for right now and he needed to control the distribution of that information.

He hated giving up Davos solely for the sake of keeping his identity secret from the Lannisters but they would not be able to defeat them and the Boltons combined forces with only a few thousand Free Folk. The numbers were against them with just the Boltons opposing them, both and they would surely be crushed. 

The downside was with Castle Black on lockdown, Jon couldn’t even send ravens to the other northern houses asking for their help in the war against the Bolton’s. However, he doubted any would flock to fight for the man who had betrayed the north by allowing the Free Folk to settle their lands. They would not risk their own necks to save him or stop the Bolton’s, if they were willing to do so then they already would have. They were too afraid of what would happen if they lost. He would gain their allegiance when the Bolton’s were at the disadvantage.

Jon looked out the window again, there was still at least another hour until sunrise. He could work on his plans for the Northern Conquest and he probably should but the temptation to visit his Daenerys, even if just for a few minutes when she woke up was too strong to resist. She might still be sleeping as she had been when he warged into Rhaegal earlier in his dreams or she might have already left to go rule but he had to check. It had only been a day since he had last seen his Daenerys and he already was missing her. 

He closed his eyes and focused on the connection he could feel to Rhaegal. When he reopened his eyes he knew he was in the dragon’s body. 

He was flying and Jon had to admit he had missed the feeling even if it was only a single day he had gone without. There was nothing like it, the feeling of the warm morning breeze on his face, the clouds he could see below him. The people milling down below, small and insignificant to the mighty dragon that he was. 

As enjoyable as flying was he hadn’t come here to fly, he was here to see his Daenerys. Jon was outside of the city, over open water in what he assumed was the summer sea. From his aerial view, he was able to see he was likely in the peninsula of what his Daenerys had renamed Dragon’s Bay. 

He descended quickly retracing the path that Rhaegal had traversed from Meereen to be over the sea, he could see the sun rising in the east as he re-emerged over the city. The morning was almost here and he knew his Daenerys woke early and started taking petitioners not far after sunrise so if he wanted to visit with her then he needed to be there very soon. 

He landed on top of the pyramid that his Daenerys lived in over her balcony and poked his head into her room. She was still sleeping but Jon knew she would wake soon and he had plenty of time with morning still being a few hours out at Castle Black with it being over two thousand miles west of Meereen. 

He stared at her sleeping form. She was alone in her lavish bed, a light blanket draped over her shoulders was the only covering she had on her entire body. The rest of her beautiful form was completely bare and unveiled to his prying eyes. 

He wasn’t sure how long he had been watching her but it couldn’t have been too long before her back arched slightly and she let out a soft yawn. Jon unable to contain himself let out a happy chirp that she was finally awake. 

She shot up to a sitting position and rubbed the sleep out of her tired eyes. When her eyes fell upon Rhaegal she smiled and practically jumped out of her bed.    
  
“Rhaegal!” She exclaimed as he rubbed his head into her bare chest. “You’re back!” She stroked his snout and Rhaegal purred content with her affections. “Where were you yesterday?”

Jon might have answered if he could but he didn’t know how to convey as a dragon that his human body had come back from the dead and he had spent the whole of yesterday plotting to take over their Kingdom so he settled for nuzzling her chest with his head some more. 

Jon was disappointed when she pushed his head away but it was only for a short moment to pull on a loose robe before sitting on the balcony and placing his head once again in her lap. 

“I should thank you Rhaegal, after your impressive hunt two nights ago, there were no Harpy attacks yesterday.” She rubbed small circles on the top of his scales. “In one night you managed to do more than my entire council had done in many moons.” She looked away from him but did not cease her petting. “Maybe one does need fear to rule successfully, maybe I can’t just be diplomatic.” 

His Daenerys sighed audibly. “I’ve spent so long worrying about being as mad as my father- about becoming him. I spent so long trying to be diplomatic just to prove I was more than the Mad King’s daughter.” 

Daenerys stopped her petting and looked out into the distance. “Maybe I should have listened to the advice of Daario and just been a conquerer. Embraced the dragon and taken back my throne with fire and blood. Sacked Meereen and moved on to Westeros.” 

Jon was appalled, and pulled his head off of her lap. His Daenerys was a good ruler and a great Queen. Had he caused her to think that she needed to be a dictator to protect her people? Jon had never been a King but he knew from his time as Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch before his death that one needed both diplomacy and fear to rule. He had been forced to make awful decisions for the good of the watch. He had swapped Gilly’s child with Mance’s to protect the boy from being burnt because of his king’s blood. He had to behead a man for insubordination to quell any rebellion but then he had feared what he had become and made Ser Alliser First Ranger completely erasing any of the good his decision to behead Slynt had caused. Diplomacy was not Jon’s strong suit but it is what had saved the Free Folk from extinction and possibly had even saved the Watch even if it had led to his death. 

Jon shook his head side to side to try to compel her to stick to the path of diplomacy. 

His Daenerys stood up from her chair so she was eye level with him and placed one hand on her hip, the other one reaching out to gingerly touch his nose. “You disagree?”

Jon bobbed his head up and down. She was always so good at understanding his gestures. 

“I never expected a dragon to advise me to go the peaceful route.” She snorted and then smiled at him and lightly caressed his snout. “You were always about fire and blood, the words of House Targaryen are said to be the hearts of every dragon but you want peace.” She paused for a moment and pressed her lips to the top of his head. “Then again I suppose you haven’t behaved much like a dragon is supposed to recently. 

She stepped away from him and looked down at the city below where her people were only just starting to wake up. “I’m terrified that if I go the peaceful route my people will suffer. If I don’t scare the Harpies into inaction that they will hurt my people.” His Daenerys sighed. “I’ve tried going the path of diplomacy before and all it did was make everyone hate me- the masters and the freemen. I tried to marry one of the masters for an alliance and that failed. I tried to be just and my people rebelled against me for killing one of their own for murder.” 

“I’ve tried to be a good diplomatic queen but despite whatever I do someone is always taking advantage of my weakness and causing chaos. The only way to keep them calm is with fear, you gave me that even if for only a short time... I don’t know how to proceed Rhaegal.” 

Jon hadn’t understood the full situation when he had tried to urge her towards diplomacy. She needed fear to get them to accept her decisions not that she was having trouble making them. She needed the perfect balance of both to rule successfully. Jon had no clue how to express that need without words but he tried anyway making a series of gestures and bobbed his head to convey it anyways. He also really didn't want her to marry some Meereneese noble. 

Somehow she had miraculously understood what he was saying or figured it out for herself. “Perhaps you’re right, maybe I need to use some of both. I have to try diplomacy and when that fails I’ll turn to fire and blood.” She sighed. “I’ll meet with the Masters and the leaders of the Sons of The Harpy and when they refuse my terms they will die.”   
  
She kissed him once more on his crown before heading back inside her room to get prepared to see her subjects petitions. Jon stared after her as she got prepared and once she was truly gone he opened his eyes and was back in his own body. 

-

Jon walked through the gates of Castle Black that barred them from the outside world alone and tossed aside the black cloak if the Night’s Watch he had worn over his other cloak. He was met by Tormund outside the gates. “You look different,” Tormund said in greeting. 

Jon supposed he did look quite different. He was no longer dressed in all black as he had worn every day for the last three years. His ensemble now had some of the signature crimson red of House Targaryen. His cousin Sansa had apparently spent all of yesterday making this cloak for him and Jon had to admit she had outdone herself. The red dragon of House Targaryen stood proud on the black background of his cloak in contrast to the all black wool that he had worn as a brother of the Night’s Watch.

He also had a silver brooch of a three-headed dragon pinned to his chest. Ser Denys Mallister had gifted it to him, in what was likely another attempt to curry his favor and get him to support him in the choosing. Apparently, the brooch had belonged to the late Maester Aemon. Jon didn't care about the motives for gifting him the brooch- it was nice to have something that belonged to his true family. 

Jon had initially planned on going to the meeting in the furs he had worn when he was with the Free Folk but when Sansa gifted him the cloak he had realized he needed to appear to them as their king, they needed to follow him, not be friends with him. He wouldn’t appear like this to the Night’s Watch yet but he needed to show himself as a King and not a crow to the Free Folk. They needed to follow him into battle as their leader and not equal or else he would never command them effectively. 

Sansa had tried to make him wear a copper crown doused with oil and on fire but Jon had refused. If the Night’s Watch saw him with flames on his crown then all the old Targaryen loyalists would vote for Ser Davos at tonight's Choosing again since he had endorsed him. If he was seen as unburnt by all the brother’s own eyes and not just the word of mouth then they would bend the knee and elect Ser Davos immediately as Lord Commander. And within a fortnight the Lannisters would know and their entire army would be backing the Boltons. Jon would lose if things were forced too quickly. Time was the key. He needed Davos to slowly lose his support and leave the choosing open as who Jon was faded from their mind. As they started to think of him as just Jon Snow once again.

“I’ve done as you asked and gathered all the Free Folk who were willing to speak with you, King Crow.” Tormund continued undeterred by the lack of response. 

Jon nodded. “Thank you. What are our numbers looking like?” 

Tormund scratched his beard. “That can march and fight?” He asked and Jon gave a slight nod. “Two-thousand, the rest are children or the elderly.” 

Jon supposed that’s what should have been expected since he had told them to take the weak first since if they left them behind they would have died, in hindsight that had been stupid but he could not change the past.  _ If I look back I am gone.  _ He had made his plans expecting about twice that since all the women of the Free Folk also fought. 

“How many of them do you think will be willing to fight for me?” Jon asked Tormund as they entered the camp. 

Tormund laughed. “With a few words of encouragement just about all of them will- maybe not the Thenn’s but everyone else. They think you’re some kind of god. The man who returned from the dead and survived a great fire.” He stopped walking and leaned in to whisper in Jon’s ear. “Of course, I know better. I saw your pecker. What kind of God would have a pecker that small?” 

Jon laughed before quickly turning solemn again. He had to focus on more important matters. “All of the Free Folk are here, right? Not just the leaders?” Jon asked. He knew the Free Folk well enough by now to know that their leaders bending the knee would not convince everyone else too. He needed to earn all his men’s allegiance to him and have them all choose to bend the knee. 

“All of the fighting men, and a little under half of the children and elderly.” 

Jon nodded again, he would have preferred everyone but as long as the fighting men were there he could persuade them to fight for him. He wanted to be able to count on the well-respected elders to advise to fight for him and the children to pressure their parents into doing so but this could still work as long as the elders who weren’t present didn’t outright tell the men to not fight for him. 

Jon and Tormund walked in silence to the small platform that had been built last night for this very occasion. Tormund took his place on the side and Jon stepped up to the center stage to try to rally the Free Folk.    
  


“I’m sure you all know why you’re here,” Jon shouted out to the crowd that had gathered for his call to arms. “I’ve come here to ask you to take arms alongside me and help we reclaim my kingdom.” 

Outraged cries rose up at his declaration and one of the Free Folk stepped up to the stage and spat at his feet. “We said we’d fight with you, King Crow, when the time comes, and we meant it, but this wasn’t what we agreed to. We agreed to fight the Great Other. We agreed to fight the army of the dead. We did not agree to fight the southerners so you can be a King. This is not our fight.” Dim Dalba declared with venom.

Jon’s reply was drowned out by the boisterous crowd who clearly agreed with Dalba’s sentiments. Tormund blew hard on the horn that he always carried with him and the crowd went silent to hear what he had to say. As much as the Free Folk had respected him, he would never be one of them like Tormund was. That was just fine with Jon he did not need to be one of them, he just needed their men. 

“If it weren’t for Jon Snow, none of us would be here. All of you would be meat in the Great Other’s army. And I’d be a pile of charred bones just like Mance.” He took a step forward to stand at Jon’s side. “The crows killed Jon Snow because he spoke for the free folk when no other southerners would. He died for us. If we are not willing to do the same for him, we’re cowards. And if that’s what we are, we deserve to be the last of the Free Folk.” Tormund proclaimed with a fiery passion. Jon appreciated the assist but he had to be the one to gain their support- not Tormund. 

Jon stepped up to fill the void as soon as Tormund was done. “I know what you’re thinking.” Jon declared. “This wasn’t the deal that we made. This isn’t your fight. I shouldn’t be asking you for this.”

“You’re wrong.” He said as his voice lowered an octave. “We all saw The Great Other and his army at Hardhome. There were at least 100,000 wights with him that day and he doubled his army that day when the rest of the Free Folk were exterminated.”

“We have what- two-thousand of the Free Folk and 613 men of the Night’s Watch? Even if all of us fight with the strength of a hundred men; we will lose. The Night’s Watch and the Free Folk are not enough to defeat the Great Other and his army. We need more allies. We need the south. We need all of the south.”  _ And dragons he silently added.  _

“I’m not asking you to put me on the throne because my grandfather was a King or because my father was a Prince. I’m not asking because I want you all to bow down before me and call me your grace. I’m asking because we have no other choice. This isn’t about me- this isn’t about any of us. This is about survival. This is about the end of life itself.”

“King Joffrey did not send any aid to the Night’s Watch, King Tommen will not either. Roose Bolton has not helped us either as is his duty as Warden of The North. King Stannis offered us his aid but he is dead and his men are gone now. We need more men- a lot more men and if the only way to get it is by placing me on the Iron Throne then I will sit on the Iron Throne and play King.” 

Jon looked at the crowd below hoping the reaction to his passionate speech would be entirely positive. He desperately needed the wildlings on his side to have a chance at defeating the Bolton’s and reclaiming the throne for his Daenerys and him. 

Tormund stepped in front of Jon and looked him directly in his eyes. “I will fight for you, Jon Snow. I will declare you my king.” Then astonishingly he bent to a knee and bowed his head. 

Dim Dalba stepped out from the crowd again. “I don’t like you, Crow,” He sneered. “I won’t fight for you… but I will fight for my people and for my survival. If that means I have to kneel before you and declare you as my King then so be it.” Then to Jon’s astonishment, Dalba too took a knee before him.   
  
“Snow.” The giant Wun Wun said loudly. He was at the back of the crowd of thousands gathered here today to hear him speak but the Giant’s voice was still heard by all who were present. 

“King Snow.” He repeated and then he dropped to his own knee as the ground shook with the sudden movement by the thirty-foot tall giant.    
  
Once Wun Wun took a knee it was a trigger for everyone else there as they all could see and hear Wun Wun whereas those at the back likely hadn’t seen Dim Dalba or Tormund kneel. Soon all of the Free Folk was on their knees before Jon, even Sigorn, the Magnar of Thenn who Jon had thought would never kneel.  The Dragon roared with pleasure at the sight of the men knelt before him in their proper place and Jon couldn’t help but smile.  _ I have my army Bolton and I’m coming for you. _

-

Jon sighed as he looked at Dim Dalba, Tormund, and Sigorn the Magnar of Thenn. The only leaders of the wildling clans who had survived Hardhome and made it south of the wall. He was meeting with them to tell them to do the one thing he had told them not to do for the sake of gaining his crown and saving the world from the Others.

“I need you to conduct raids on the North.” Jon didn’t bother with the pleasantries he knew these people would not care, they weren’t the southern lords but the Free Folk. 

All of them stared at Jon in disbelief. “You told us we weren’t allowed to raid the North when you brought us through The Wall. That was your first condition, before even asking us to fight for you against the Others when the time came.” Dim Dalba said with a slight frown.

“I did.” Jon acknowledged with a slight nod. “Times have changed, I’m no longer trying to gain allies with pretty words as Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. Now, I’m a king and I have to win battles to get us the allies we need.”

Jon frowned. “I don’t want to hurt the North but I have to. We need to conduct raids on Last Hearth, the Karkhold, and the Dreadfort along with the other castles on the way but primarily those three. We need to weaken their army in order to have the advantage. Steal or burn their food storages, destroy their weapons, damage the walls if you must. Do not fly any banners when you conduct these raids, they must think that the wildlings are acting alone.” Jon ordered. His targets had been strategically chosen. Last Hearth was mandatory due to the proximity- not attacking it would arouse suspicion, and they were disloyal anyways. Jon had no doubt the Karkholds would side against him because Robb had executed their former Lord so weakening them was crucial. The Boltons needed no explanation but he had to settle for the Dreadfort since Winterfell was so far away. All three had sided against Stannis anyways. 

“Why?” The Magnar of Thenn asked gruffly. 

Jon allowed himself to smile slightly. “Lord Bolton will easily be able to rally all the Northern houses to come with him here with a large army to crush the wildling scum and drive them back over the wall.” They all looked at him like he was insane and stupid. Perhaps he was. “We’ll ride out hoisting Stark banners when we go to meet them. Most of the Northern houses will turn on the Bolton’s for their part in the massacre of the man they chose as their King and their fathers. They’ll turn on them and the Bolton’s will be surrounded by their enemies and outnumbered with us holding the home-field advantage.” 

Jon’s declaration was met with smiles, albeit hesitant ones. He knew the plan was risky but they needed the Bolton’s to attack them. A siege on Winterfell was an unwinnable task. An open field charge would be even more stupid with the difference in their numbers and lack of supplies, the Bolton’s could just wait them out as they starved in the snow. He didn’t trust the Northen Lords but he trusted that they would protect their own best interests and that they hated the Bolton’s. The Bolton’s weren’t even well-liked before the Red Wedding. After all of that death, they would be seeking to remove them with or without Jon’s influence. He didn’t have a better option than to trust the North to remember like they claimed they did.

“This one has balls” The Magnar of Thenn laughed to Jon’s astonishment. “Certainly, more than Mance ever did. I like him.” 

Jon smiled again as the other two leaders gave the same compliment or variations of it and set to doing what Jon had ordered. Things were starting to come together now, soon the North would be his. 

-

Jon had asked Tormund to discretely gather all the wargs among the Free Folk for a special task and it had taken him a few days to find them but Jon was more than pleased with the results. There were just shy of a hundred of them, including the children and elderly. They likely didn’t all have the same mastery of the ability but they had it in some form and they could use that. 

“Thank you all for coming to meet with me. I have need of your talents to whatever extent that you have them.” Jon looked at the men and women and a lot of children gathered there before him as he spoke most of their faces cold despite publically kneeling to him they didn’t like or trust him.  _ Most of them fear him, however.  _ “Everyone in the seven kingdoms believes that wargs are a myth, even the brothers of the Night’s Watch believe they are one,” Jon explain

“No one not in this camp will ever find out you have your talents. You  will tell no one that wargs exist in any of the seven kingdoms or the Night’s Watch. Not even my sister nor if you choose to take a southern bride. You’re the biggest asset we have against our enemies-”

“Your enemies.” A man cut him off from the front of the crowd. He was older and greying with an old man’s pinched face and lack of hair but he still very much had the physique of a man twenty years his junior. Jon knew he had seen him somewhere once before but he couldn’t place it.

Jon looked at him with steel in his gaze. “ _ Our  _ enemies,” Jon repeated. “Anyone who will not stand with us against the Others and the army of the dead is our enemy. The enemy of life itself.” 

The man nodded but the fight did not leave his eyes. Jon forced himself to accept the slight submission, he could earn his respect later- in battle. “As I was saying everyone south of here does not believe in wargs. They have no problem discussing important plans when the birds are listening in or the rats are underneath their feet.” 

“We do not have the numbers that the Boltons do. We would lose in open combat if we storm them blindly. Information will be our key to success, knowing their moves before they make them, where their people will be and how many of them. Secrets that we can use to blackmail them into compliance, knowledge is power.” 

  
Jon took a deep breath and remembered the pain of losing Ghost, the pain of his death as Ghost. “I know I’m asking a lot of you, we all know how painful it is to die as a warg and I’m asking you to warg into animals next to some of the most dangerous men in the realm- to be their shadow even.”

“How do you know? Don’t pretend you understand us, King Crow.” A woman from the back jeered and some of the others gave shouts in agreement. 

Jon was surprised when he was saved from having to answer by the man who had interrupted him before. “He is a warg, Grisella you fool. An extremely powerful one considering how he tamed his direwolf.” The man spat. 

Jon looked at him in surprise “What is your name?” 

“Varamyr Sixskins,  _ My King _ .” There was some disrespect in the address but Jon squashed down any anger it invoked. 

“You were with Mance when I met him with the leaders of the clans, weren’t you?” Jon asked the realization dawning on him as to who he was. 

“I was, I bent the knee to him to save our lives and it got us all killed.” The as will you, he clearly meant to say went unsaid but was heard all the same. 

“You rode the polar bear and shadowcat into battle?” Jon asked. “When your eagle was burnt by the Red Witch they rampaged? Or was that someone else?” He had been in Mance’s camp at the time, to kill him under the white flag of parlay. That was before he knew about the real threat. 

“I was.” He acknowledged his chin held up in defiance. 

“Do you speak for your people?” He asked Varamyr but also the rest of the room. “Will they listen to you?”    
  
A few people nod from around the room and Varamyr gives another curt response. “They will.” 

He looked away from Varamyr for a moment. “Until the Long Night comes there will be no more riding of bears or wolfs in battle. We can not afford to tip-off anyone to the existence of wargs. We need the intel more than we need the extra firepower in battle.”

He looked back at Varamyr. “Can you organize a schedule for shifts for every warg we have to spy on Roose, and Ramsay Bolton, at all hours of the day as well as Lord Umber and Lord Karstak, Lord Hornwood, Lord Cewlyn, and Lord Glover, Lord Manderly and Lord Ryswell as well as a lower priority mission.” He had chosen his targets easily. They were the largest Northern Houses that had fought with the Boltons against Stannis and Last Hearth was the closest castle to the wall. Every warg will have at least one day off a week and not be assigned to watch them for more than 8 hours in a single day. I have no desire to separate you from your friends and family.”

Varamyr chuckled. “Not all wargs are as powerful as you, King Crow. Most of us can only control animals we have a bond with or at least have met, it’s not as simple as just picking an animal at some location and appearing in their skin. Stretching our minds into so many animals at once could break them.” 

Jon frowned. He probably should have known that but he hadn’t. If there was less of an audience he might have asked Varamyr what he should do instead or how to work around that but there was too much of a crowd that despite their public fealty would not respect him if he asked Varamyr for advice. “How many of you could do that?” 

“Me,” Varamyr said smugly. 

“Anyone else?” Jon asked slightly desperate. 

“No.” No one disagreed with his statement which meant he was likely honest. Great. 

“How many people can at least warg into a discrete animal, a bird or rabbit or something of the ilk?”

“Most of us have rather tame familiars,” Varamyr said after a moment of pause. “Most of us would rather not be separated from them, however, King Crow. Might I propose a different solution?”

Jon closed his eyes. “You may.” He hadn’t wanted to be put in this situation but he couldn’t refuse his council not when he needed a solution so badly, and refusing would only make him look insecure and weak and that was worse then publically accepting counsel. 

“We all share a single bird, the stronger willed of us go first in controlling it until it’s broken completely under the strain of a hundred voices and anyone with even a smidgen of warging ability could slip into its skin with ease,” Varamyr suggested and the crowd murmured their consent with his idea but still looked to Jon for a verdict.

  
Jon nodded, he had to remember the Free Folk weren’t like the people of Westeros, they would not take issue with someone challenging his authority in the same way the Westerosi Lords will. A part of him felt slightly guilty for breaking the mind of a bird but ultimately it was just a bird and thousands of lives were at stake, there was no doubt that it had to be done. “See that it is done.” He ordered Varamyr.

“I’m afraid we don’t know what those men look like or where they are. You would need to slip into the bird’s skin first and lead it there.” Varamyr challenged him with a smug grin. 

Jon sighed internally even as he voiced his consent and ordered them to bring him a four birds and four rats. He would have to prioritize intel from the more dangerous locations. He would send two of each to Last Hearth and another two of them to Winterfell. The Boltons would hear anything the other minor Lords heard as their liege Lord and again Last Hearth for proximity. He stepped outside the tent for a moment and asked someone to bring him Tormund who had arrived with haste. He would be defenseless while he warged, he needed someone he kind of trusted to be there and stop any foul play. He couldn’t back down from this challenge but Jon had no clue if he could even slip into a creature that he wasn’t bonded with’s skin. He had tamed a dragon, surely he could control the urges of the bird. 

Jon put his hand on the head of one of the crows that they had brought him on probably thinking it was funny to make King Crow warg into a crow. Still, Jon was glad it was a crow. A crow might be terrible in battle but it was much more common and thus also unnoticeable then the flashy hawk or eagle he had expected. 

Jon closed his eyes, he just had to focus on the bird, like he did when he warged into Rhaegal every morning. He could do this, a crow was no dragon. When he reopened his eyes he was in Rhaegal’s body. Oops, wrong animal. He mentally apologized to Rhaegal and could feel his mirth before he tore himself out of Rhaegal. 

The bird he told himself when he was back in his own skin. He closed his eyes once again. He had to focus on the bird. Focus on its unsettling black eyes. The soft black feathers. The pointy beak that could peck a man’s eye out.

Jon did not need to open his eyes to realize he was inside the bird. Everything, in the bird, felt wrong and foreign to him. With Ghost and especially Rhaegal, he felt like he was them, wearing their skin had come as naturally as breathing. Now everything was pained and unnatural. The crow was cruel and twisted. He felt like an unwanted tyrant forcing the crow to bend to his will. He wanted out of it but he was here for a purpose. He shuddered to himself as he forced the uncleanliness down and the disgust away.

He had a job to do so he picked up one of the rats in his talons that a warg had already taken and prepared to fly off to the Last Hearth, the ancestral home of Lord Umber the traitor who had sided with the Bolton against Stannis. The bird wanted to eat the rat he was holding and it took a significant amount of willpower to tame its desires and refuse its demands.

“Wait.” He heard Varamyr call out clearly amused. “We all need to get a feel for the bird first.” 

Jon withdrew from the bird and watched as every other warg took their turns in an arduous process of possessing the bird and withdrawing, different wargs took different lengths of time to get a feel of the bird and rat respectively. The later they got in the process, the quicker the time to inhabit the bird became. Finally, after over an hour of watching people warg into various animals, their work was done and Jon could finally reinhabit the bird and take it to Last Hearth with another rat to spy on them. 

Jon slipped back into the crows body after giving Varamyr orders to follow him as the other bird, a much easier endeavor now than it was the first time as the bird seemingly had no more desires of its own or any will left to fight his commands. This time there was no struggle to refrain from eating the rat he clutched between his talons. The fact that it was snowing meant that flight was even slower and it was almost three hours before they had reached the Last Hearth. To think it was the closest of the castles. He had settled into a tree dropping the rat who immediately scurried down through an open door of the holdings to get inside and away from him. 

Satisfied with his work Jon opened his eyes and was a human once more. The rest of the birds wouldn’t be able to be sent out yet if he needed to escort them personally. He didn’t have enough time in the day to escort all the birds right now. Jon looked at the men and woman in the room and saw respect for his passing of Varamyr’s test. Even Varamyr seemed to reluctantly respect him now. Varamyr had clearly expected him to fail at breaking the bird’s will to his own. 

It wasn’t what Jon had hoped for when asking for the wargs but it was something and for the first time since his death Jon allowed himself to hope that things would go smoothly. He would take the north and later the Iron Throne for his Daenerys and him. 

\- 

Jon smiled as Sansa entered his room just before the ninth night of the choosing. Since Jon’s resurrection, the two had been meeting and exchanged stories of what had happened in their time apart- which by exchanging Jon had really meant he would talk and Sansa would listen occasionally adding a comment or telling him something small. Still, he would wait for her to open up to him or for there to be some urgency

“So where did we leave off last time?” Jon said as she took her seat. “I believe I had just told you about the wight and how I received Longclaw?” 

Sansa nodded. “Brother, may I go first tonight?” 

Jon narrowed his eyes slightly before visibly relaxing and nodding his consent. She was obviously scheming something if she was not only willing to talk for the first time but offering to go first. Hopefully what she shared would give some indication as to what she was planning. 

“Like you, I’ll start with the beginning.” She hummed as she folded her hands over her lap. “When we left Winterfell with the King, we stopped at the Ruby Ford. I was a foolish girl back then, I believed Joffrey was some gallant prince, not the cruel little shit he was.” 

“Joffrey and I went riding together and stumbled upon Arya fighting the butcher’s boy with wooden sticks, playing at being knights. The butcher’s boy hit her hand and she dropped her stick. Joffrey laughed at her and I made the mistake of calling out Arya’s name.” 

  
She paused in her story for a moment and when she resumed her voice was distant and low. “Joffrey taunted the boy for wanting to be a knight and demanded he pick up his sword and fight him with it while Joffrey used a real sword. He refused and Joffrey rested the point of the sword on the poor boy’s cheek.”

Sansa let out a dry laugh. “Arya snapped and hit Joffrey in the back of his head with her stick to get him to leave the butcher’s boy alone.” Jon couldn’t help but chuckle, that did sound exactly like Arya. 

Sansa took an audible breath before continuing her tale. “Joffrey whirled on her with his sword drawn and snapped her stick. He had her pinned with her back to a tree and was hacking wildly, he would have taken her head if he could in his anger.” 

Even knowing that Arya was still alive Jon couldn’t help but worry about what would happen to her here. She had attacked the crown prince, even if he didn’t hurt her- the King certainly would punish her. “Nymeria saved her,” Sansa whispered. “She came out of the woods to save Arya and bit down on Joffrey’s sword arm. He dropped the sword and Arya threw it in the river.”

“My dear sweet precious Prince Joffrey told the King that Arya and the butcher’s boy had assaulted him and beat him with clubs while she set her wolf on him.” She choked back a sob. “Arya told the truth and they asked me to verify who was telling the truth. 

  
She looked away from him and at the floor. “I was a naive stupid fool who believed my prince to be a gallant knight and Arya to be the one who always ruined everything for me.” She spat with surprising venom over who she used to be. “I-I said I couldn’t remember that it had happened too fast- that I hadn’t seen. I lied to the King about his son being a vindictive shit and betrayed my family for that brat…” 

Jon rose up and crouched beside Sansa’s chair clutching her hands tightly as she sobbed, once she had gathered some of herself she continued her account. “I paid the price for my foolishness. I paid for my decision to betray my family. The Queen demanded Nymeria’s pelt but Arya had made her flee knowing what was likely coming.”

She stopped again to sob and her voice was shaky when she continued. “The Queen took my Lady instead. Father demanded that he be the one to take the head at the very least and I had to watch as my own father killed my wolf.” She moaned. “I was such a naive fool that even after that I still loved my gallant precious prince and blamed Arya for the whole thing. I still believed that Cersei was kind and admired her.” 

  
Jon didn’t know what to say so he just stayed crouched next to her as she cried. He couldn’t tell her she wasn’t a naive fool or excuse her actions in defense of the prince. She had been a naive fool, there was no way he could deny that without it just being a lie in order to comfort her. He held onto her just reveling in the fact that his cousin was safe with him 

He wasn’t sure how long he had stayed there just silently holding her before she spoke again her voice barely a snivel. “I just want to go home, Jon… when can we go home?” 

Jon pulled out of her grip as red hot anger seized him. She was still trying to play her games, of course, she wouldn’t have told him with any other intent. She still was trying to manipulate him into doing something he had already promised her. 

He shoved away from her and stood up his face hardened. “Do not play your games with me,  _ cousin.”  _ He spat.

Sansa flinched back at his tone and Jon felt the tiniest bit guilty before he squashed that down with a roar. “I-I’m sorry brother.. I just wanted to know when we’ll leave the wall- when you’ll start making preparations to reclaim Winterfell.

If Jon had trusted her then he might have told her that he had already secured the loyalty of the Free Folk, that he had already positioned spies in Winterfell. That he had already started sending supposedly independent Wildling raids to Last Hearth, Karkhold, and the Dreadfoot to weaken their holdings and steal supplies while keeping them unprepared for him being the actual threat. But he didn’t trust her and he was angry so instead, he simply said: “When the choosing is done we will leave.” 

Sansa reached for his hand but Jon pushed it away. “Please Jon, the choosing could take years. We have to reclaim the North, we have to destroy the Boltons.” 

“The Night’s Watch is too important to leave until I know it’s in good hands.” Jon spat at her. “I will retake the North when the time is right- not until then.” 

Sansa just nodded and silently left his quarters. 

Jon needed to get away after Sansa had tried to manipulate him into being rash and getting killed. So rather than attending the night’s choosing as he had every other night, after their conversation he chose to go to the one place he knew would calm him, to visit his Daenerys. Any plans he came up with now would likely fail since his anger was clouding his judgment he told himself to justify his desires. 

He was in a farm just outside the city stuffing his face with a crispy sheep when Jon opened his eyes again. The farmer was staring at him terrified as he ate his livestock but Jon ignored him enjoying his meal. 

As soon as he finished Jon took off for the palace hoping that his Daenerys would still be awake and able to speak with him. He needed to see her, to hear her calming voice. He needed to know he still had someone he could trust- who cared for him. Even if she didn’t know who he really was. 

As he descended to the pyramid he was glad to see his Daenerys standing on the balcony holding a pitcher of wine. She was clearly upset by something so his happiness at seeing her quickly bled away. 

He landed on the roof as he always had and she immediately reached out to pet him. “I’m so glad you came tonight Rhaegal.” She spoke softly as she stroked the scales on his neck. 

She took a long swig from the pitcher. “I’m not the last Targaryen,” she spoke softly her voice heavy and somewhat slurred from the wine. “For so long I believed that I was the only Targaryen, that I would be the last one.”

Jon’s heart was racing surely she meant Maester Aemon? She must not be aware he passed. Or maybe she was pregnant after thinking she was cursed. She couldn’t have found out about him, it had only been ten days since his resurrection for a Raven to get here that fast it would have to have been released immediately after his return and been trained to fly to Meereen. There was no way she knew about him yet. She couldn’t- it was practically impossible.    
  
“Lord Varys’s little birds claim that there is another. The Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch; Jon Stark, they claim that he died in a mutiny and seven days later walked out of the funeral pyre, alive and unburnt. Varys reasons that he is the son of Rhaegar and his Lady Lyanna. I have a nephew.”

_ Well, Fuck.  _

* * *

**AN: The author's note is going in the chapter because I exceeded the character limit with all my explanations of the events of the chapter. Oops.**

**Just because Daenerys did not notice Jon struggling to not attack someone without Valyrian blood, doesn't mean that he didn't struggle to do so. Perspective is important. Everyone without Valyrian blood, dragons will always be somewhat hostile and distrusting of.**

**The decision to put the Night's Watch on lockdown and give the Lord Commander control of all mail going in and out is largely for plot convenience but it does make some sense. The Night's Watch is in a lot of ways a military base and no military base is ever going to let anyone and everyone send and receive mail without monitoring it. When there is no Lord Commander, there is no one to monitor the mail so it makes sense that it wouldn't be allowed. Additionally, there's the factor of how being able to send mail can influence the results of the choosing. Let's say Ramsay Bolton was sent to join the Night's Watch by Robb after what he did to the Lady Hornwood. If Ramsay was to run for Lord Commander and send a Raven to his father asking for him to send prisoners to the wall rather than killing them, then he could influence the vote by adding an extra, however, many votes to his corner. Alternatively, someone could offer the territories in the gift in exchange for men to secure them the position of Lord Commander. The Night's Watch is a seat of power and well it's not the most powerful one- with the right Lord Commander it can be weaponized extremely effectively. in the books, Jon tries to rally the Night's Watch to his cause to retake Winterfell from the Boltons after getting the pink letter- admittedly mostly the wildlings but he still tried to do so. He failed because he didn't neutralize those actually loyal to the watch (Or the Boltons) but there is potential for such a scenario to work. What if during Robb's time as King in the North, there had been a different Lord Commander- and they had made a deal with Tywin to mobilize the watch against Robb, striking at him from behind- a completely unseen enemy that could have cripled him. If Tywin had offered them all the opportunity to return to their old lives and be absolved of their crimes that had gotten them sent there, how many of them would stay loyal to the watch? Maybe a dozen? If you control the watch you have power and letting Lords outside the Wall have a say in the Lord Commander is an incredibly stupid concept. Hence the Lockdown during the choosing (The gift is still open because it's considered the territory of the Night's Watch). Hence the plan to keep the watch without a Lord Commander.**

**Jons decision to have Sam go the citadel to save Mance's babe is like the crux of his tenure as Lord Commander and his decision to send Sam at his behest in the show looks like just plain favoritism. I'm definitely keeping that part of the book as having happened in this universe. It's too important to his character development to exclude it like the show did.**

**Tormunds speech was awesome in the show so I left it in but Jon really should have been the one to convince the Free Folk to fight for him- not Tormund. The Free Folk kneel in canon and they kneel here, again they are free to choose if they kneel not because they won't ever kneel.**

**So let's talk Jon's plan for the Northern Conquest. The North is not going to involve themselves in a power struggle for the position of Warden, they don't love the Bolton's and after Robbs marrying Talisa, they aren't entirely loyal to the Starks either. Even if they were, they won't risk losing power in order to support Jon- a bastard and Sansa who is now Lady Bolton- and a girl, in what looks like a failing bid, they didn't in the show and they probably won't if this occurs in the books. Jon unlike how he is portrayed in season seven and eight, is not an idiot. He knows that they will all choose to stay neutral in his war so he's forcing them to make a choice. They don't see the Wildlings winning as a viable option for their future. They think the Wildlings are undisciplined savages who would take their power and rape their wives and daughters. When the wall has no outgoing post beside the announcement that Jon had died that went out immediately after his death, they will assume the Wildlings seized control of the wall and all rise up to go crush them before they invade the rest of their lands. They know that the wildlings are south of the wall because the idea that they wouldn't is completely absurd (News travels people), even Kings Landing and Daenerys in Essos as well. News travels, especially big news that is impossible to deny. Jon plans on riding out alongside Sansa while hoisting Direwolf banners and force the Northern Lords to choose if their hatred for the Boltons or the Starks is stronger. He rightfully presumes most will side with the Starks as the Boltons have no desire for Northern independence and are content on allying with the crown. They are also all greedy and want more power. From there once the Boltons are handily defeated- Jon would reveal the truth of his resurrection and Targaryen heritage and again the Northern Lords, greedy for power would want to put him on the Iron Throne, no longer content with just independence.**

**The warg spy network is hardly an original concept but hopefully, this is a more realistic interpretation. Wargs do not just warg into an animal and then know everything that animal had seen or heard instantly. They warg into an animal they usually have to have a bond with, not whoever they want. 100 wargs is about 1% of the Free Folk population with the gift and that seems like a reasonable ratio considering all the Stark children (Except maybe Sansa) are wargs. Eight hours a day of warg shifts might sound like a lot but you have to remember that wargs are essentially sleeping while they wary. They do it in their sleep all the time so all Jon is really asking them to do is adjust their sleep schedules.**

**We know from Bran's own experiences with Hodor that things whose minds are broken are easier to warg into. We know that Bran who admittedly is a much more powerful warg when he does his time travel warning thing, by controlling him so forcefully, he completely breaks Hodor's mind and will. It stands to reason that a hundred voices in your head could break anyone's mind- especially that of a bird into the point where their skin is effortless to slip into. Varamyr was testing Jon's warning capabilities by having him warg into the bird he had no bond with first. We know in the books that Jon is a powerful warg according to Varamyr but he thinks he could steal Ghost from him in spite of that.**

**I included Varamyr in the story because there are no other surviving wargs from the Free Folk with names and we technically never seen Varamyr die, the prologue ends right before. Also because the Dance with Dragons prologue is possibly my favorite chapter in the entire series and is what inspired this entire novel. Varamyr will serve as the warg expert/mentor for Jon and kind of his spymaster. I didn't want to use an OC for such a big role so rather than bringing back some boring warg for that role I let the most interesting one survive.**

**He chose the locations he did to send his wargs because the Last Hearth is closest and liable to get any news that leaks from the wall first, informing Jon if they needed to shift their plans. Winterfell needs no explanation for his choice of placing his spies there since both Roose, the Warden of the North, and his sister's rapist, Ramsay is there.**

**I'll probably have to say this a dozen times but Sansa does care about Jon and the rest of her family; she just has tunnel vision right now as she's fueled primarily for her desire for vengeance against the Boltons. Her anger is both causing her to be sloppy in her manipulation attempts and literally the first thing established about Jon's character in the books is how perceptive he is, so seeing through obvious manipulation is to be expected. (Cough Cough.) Jon does not trust Sansa or anyone really except Daenerys after being murdered by men he trusted.**

**There is a specific reason for why Varys already knows of Jon's resurrection despite the lockdown that will be revealed in a long time ( ~~He's a merman obviously).~~ Daenerys's reaction to the information will be in next Friday's chapter. I don't believe in secrets in case you can't tell by now. People outside of the wall will be relatively aware of the important happenings of the Night's Watch and just about everywhere else. There is no chance the Lannister army could move in secret to Highgarden without anyone knowing. Large armies that take months to move do not travel in secret. News travels in my version of the world of Ice in Fire. Things in Westeros will be known pretty quickly in Essos and vice versa. Varys didn't lose all of his contacts by going to Meereen. **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Tuesday we have the next Jamie chapter as he and Myrcella along with her new husband return to King's Landing briefly and are reunited with Tommen. 
> 
> Thanks for reading. Don't forget to leave Kudos and review.


	14. Jamie III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Myrcella return to King's Landing and are reunited with Tommen and Cersei.

Jamie stood on the deck of the ship as they pulled into the port of King’s Landing. He was unsurprised to see that there was a party of Gold Cloaks waiting for them to escort them to the Red Keep. What did surprise him was the quantity of them, there were at least 30 men waiting for them. Jamie thought it was a bit extravagant but he supposed that with the Queen and Queen-Mother imprisoned by the faith militant, they didn’t want to take any chances with the Princess’s safety.

Jamie could see the commoners whispering to each other as they docked. No doubt, they were gossiping about his lack of white cloak and armor as again he was wearing an outfit that looked much more like something his father would wear than something he would have ever pictured himself in. The Kings Guard was supposed to be for life but here he was as Lord Lannister after shedding the white cloak. 

Jamie walked down the stairs to the lower level where he knew Myrcella and her new husband were staying in. He had not seen too much of them while on the boat back to Kings Landing, they had spent most of their time alone in their cabin doing things Jamie did want to think about his daughter doing. 

Jamie turned down the hall to where Myrcella’s room was but found his path blocked. 

“They’re still fucking like rabbits right now.” Nymeria Sand told him. That had not been a pleasant surprise when he found out she was coming back with them as Myrcella’s handmaiden. His daughter would still be at risk even if her husband was not in on the plot with one of the treacherous Sand Snakes by her side at all times. 

Jamie ignored her and lightly rapped on the door with his knuckles. “We’ve docked in King’s Landing, we’ll disembark shortly. Be ready to go.” Jamie said to the closed door.

“We’ll be there…”Myrcella panted through the door. “In a minute, Father.” She moaned for reasons Jamie would not think about. 

Myrcella had taken to calling Jamie her father every time that they spoke in anything close to a private situation. Trystane and Nymeria both knew he was her father and Jamie wasn’t sure if they knew because of Arianne or Myrcella telling them. Myrcella seemed to trust both of them despite one or both of them plotting her possible murder. He still didn’t know how to tell her that or if he was even allowed to do so. 

A part of Jamie was selfishly glad that Cersei was imprisoned at this current time. She had reacted rather poorly to him calling Myrcella and Tommen his children before he had left to rescue Myrcella and he did not want to imagine how much worse she would react to Myrcella calling him father. Not to mention how angry Jamie was at her cheating on him while he was a prisoner and fucking Lancel and Kettleblack and Moon boy according to Tyrion. Yes, it was better that he just gives Tommen his resignation and not see Cersei at all for now. It’s not like she would die, Ser Gregor would defeat whatever faith militant decided to fight for them in the trial by combat. Maybe Jamie would get really lucky and Lancel would be the faith’s champion, wouldn't that be a fitting end for Cersei's boy toy . 

“The Queen has asked us to escort you to the keep. Your wheelhouse is just this way, Princess.” Ser Humfrey Waters, the Commander of the City Watch told them once that had deboarded.

Jamie blinked owlishly. “The Queen? I was under the impression that the faith militant was holding her for trial on charges of infidelity.”

“The Queen-Mother.” Ser Humfrey corrected himself. That did nothing to clear up his confusion.

At his look of confusion, Ser Humfrey elaborated. “She was allowed to return to the keep until her trial after her walk of shame.”

“Walk of shame?” Jamie asked still completely lost.

Ser Humfrey sighed and pinched his brow, he was saved the trouble of answering when a different gold cloak butted in. “They shaved the bitch and made the whore walk to the keep naked with her saggy tits hanging out.”

Jamie resisted the urge to punch the guard. “What is your name Ser?” 

“Aurane Flowers, Ser Goldenhand-” He slurred and gave a mock bow. 

Humfrey turned around to look at Aurane Waters. “She is still the Queen-Mother, you’ll treat her with respect or you will find yourself on the executioner’s block.” He snapped at Flowers. 

He then turned back to Jamie and the rest of their party. “I apologize for his behavior. He is clearly drunk. If it would like to Princess, please feel free to punish him.” 

Myrcella turned her nose up as if she smelled something foul. “I’ll let him off just this once. I’m sure he meant no harm by his crass description. A simple apology will do in this case.”

Jamie wondered where Myrcella got her kindness and mercy from. There was no way it came from Cersei and while Jamie was better than Cersei at being decent, Myrcella and Tommen too he supposed were in a league of their own. Perhaps it was from seeing how cruel Joffrey had been and simply doing the opposite.

Aurane Flowers fell to his knees in front of them and clutched his hand together. “Thank you, Princess!” He blubbered. “I recant! I wasn’t thinking, I did not mean to insult your mother!” 

Myrcella sniffed and lifted the hem of her dress as she stepped past him to the earlier indicated wheelhouse. Jamie sighed and saddled his horse alongside Prince Trystane and Nymeria as they prepared to ride back to the keep. 

Jamie had planned on avoiding Cersei, he would catch up with Tommen briefly, and then he and Myrcella would depart to Casterly Rock, avoiding Cersei entirely. Now he had to prepare to see the woman he both hated and loved more than anyone else in the entire world. He had to tell her to her face that he was leaving the Kings Guard and her behind to return to Casterly Rock and take her daughter away with him. Jamie was confident that it was sure to go over well. He snorted at the thought, it was bound to go horribly.

The ride to the keep was all too short and now he was standing across the street from Cersei with four of the Kings Guard flanking her including one monster of a man that could only be Ser Gregor Clegagne. Jamie could only imagine how Ser Barristan would have reacted to having to serve with someone that had as little honor as the mountain.  Once upon a time, the Kings Guard was a place for the most honorable of knights but these days it was full of sellswords, rapists, and child murderers. At least there would no longer be a Kingslayer in their numbers but Jamie was sure he’d be replaced by someone even worse, probably a kinslayer. Jamie was glad to be leaving the Kings Guard if that was what it looked like now. 

Jamie watched mutely as Ser Osmund Kettleblack held out a hand to help Myrcella out of the wheelhouse that she took a with a polite smile. He had already stolen Cersei from him and that thing dared to touch his daughter? His left hand balled into a fist as it hung uselessly at his side. 

“Mother!” Myrcella exclaimed with a wide grin. She lifted her dress and quickly walked to where Cersei was standing still flanked by three of the Kings Guard, completely unmoving from her spot. 

Cersei looked awful and that was probably being generous to her current state. Her head was completely bald except for a few wisps of golden hair on her scalp. She was thinner then she used to be as well, significantly so. She was bony and pale. Her face was gaunt as the skin was stretched tight over her skeleton. They’re where dark bags under her eyes as if she had gone weeks without sleeping. Even as she hugged Myrcella to her, her eyes were frantic, darting back and forth about, scanning the people around her as if she was afraid at any moment that they would be attacked.

Jamie was angry at Cersei but that doesn’t mean that it didn’t hurt him to see the usually so proud and strong Queen completely broken and so weak. She was still his sister despite everything. She was still the mother of his children and if only for their sake he wanted her to be alive and happy.

Myrcella stepped away from her mother and beckoned her new husband over. “I want you to meet my husband Trystane Martell.”

Trystane took Cersei’s hand in his and kissed her knuckles. “Charmed,” Cersei replied with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Her eyes glanced over his shoulder to where Jamie was standing and her eyes bored into his own eyes. She obviously wasn’t happy with the fruits of his “diplomatic mission.” 

-

Jamie knocked on the door what he knew to be Tommen’s room. He wanted to catch him alone when he turned in his resignation and this was the easiest way to guarantee that he would be alone. 

“Go away!” Tommen shouted before changing his mind. “Who is it?”    
  


“Ser Jamie Lannister.” 

“You may enter,” Tommen said and Jamie opened the door. 

Tommen was lounging on his bed, wearing a loose purple robe. His robes had stains of chocolate on the sleeves and his crown was noticeably absent from his head. He was pudgier then Jamie remembered and Jamie couldn’t help but worry about his youngest son’s health.

“Uncle Jamie.” Tommen greeted him with no real enthusiasm. 

“Are you alright?” Jamie asked as he took in his state. He had come here with a different purpose but his reason seemed unimportant now and his son’s well being came first. 

Tommen scowled. “What do you think?” His voice rose to a shout. “My wife is being imprisoned for some bullshit charges that my mother made up, and every one of my subjects hates me. I never should have been king, that was always Joffrey’s role. I’ve been a horrible king.”

Jamie sat on the edge of the bed next to Tommen’s feet. How do you comfort him about that without outright lying? “I’ll admit your tenure as King has been rough but that is mostly due to circumstances out of your control. You don’t control the actions of others, you didn’t choose to have the new High Septon go completely crazy and arrest the Queen and your mother.” He put his left hand on Tommen’s leg. You are not responsible for the decisions of others nor should you be concerned by their opinions. Do what you feel is best, you’re the King, not anyone else. Their opinions can influence you but in the end, yours is the only one that matters.” 

“But I don’t want to be King.” Tommen’s voice was so faint that Jamie almost missed it. 

Jamie frowned. “Unfortunately you don’t have much of a choice there.” He patted his leg. “On the bright side, you only got to marry your beautiful wife because you are King.” 

Tommen smiled briefly but it quickly turned into a frown. “Margaery would be better off without me. It’s only because she is Queen that mother drummed up these charges and got her arrested.” 

Jamie sighed. “Perhaps.” He conceded. “In a little bit, your wife will be free after she is found innocent and you’ll be reunited once again. Years later, you’ll look back on this incident and laugh about the silliness of all this.” 

“I miss her,” Tommen said sadly and Jamie could offer no assurances there. Still, he tried anyway.

“While I’ll admit she’s not your wife, your sister is back from Dorne with her new husband for the next few days,” Jamie told Tommen.

Tommen smiled. “Really? Why?” He said in a rush. 

Jamie grimaced. “That’s actually why I wanted to see you.” Tommen looked into his eyes but did not stop smiling. “I wish to leave the King’s Guard.” 

Tommen frowned again and Jamie couldn’t help but feel guilty for taking his joy away. “Why?”

Jamie instinctively tried to run his right hand through his hair forgetting it was a golden prosthetic now and instead bonked his forehead with it. “This, Your Grace.” He held up the hand and let out a light laugh. “I can’t even beat most squires with my left hand, I lost to a woman even while in Dorne.” He grimaced. “I failed to protect your father and I failed to protect Joffrey, both died on my watch.” He sighed. “I’m not able to protect you and I’m only a liability.” 

Tommen frowned but consented. “Very well, I will miss you Uncle Jamie but I release you from your oath. You are free to leave.” 

Jamie knelt as was the procedure for something like this. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

“What will you do now, Uncle Jamie?” Tommen asked once Jamie was back on his feet. 

Jamie sighed yet again. “I’ll finally do what father wanted and take up my rightful position as Lord of Casterly Rock.” 

“When will you leave?” He asked morosely. 

Jamie truthfully didn’t know. He presumed that he had to go to Casterly Rock immediately to officially name Myrcella as his heir but he could hardly say for certain. “Me and Myrcella, unfortunately, can not stay here any longer than a week.” 

Tommen frowned. “You are dismissed, Uncle Jamie.” He said making a shooing motion with his hand. 

“Tommen..” Jamie tried to apologize but Tommen wouldn’t hear it. 

“I said you are dismissed.” Tommen repeated with some force and this time Jamie did as he bid. So with a bow and a faint whispered, “Your Grace,” he left Tommen’s room and his son to his misery as much as it pained him to do so. 

-

Jamie shoved the mutton chop off of his plate as he again tried to cut it with only one hand while holding the fork loosely in his golden hand. 

Myrcella giggled. “Just call for a steward Father,” She told him as her eyes twinkled full of mirth. “You don’t have to cut it yourself.” She beckoned a steward over to do just that for him and Jamie reluctantly allowed the steward to cut his mutton into little bite-sized chunks as if he were a toddler.

She seemed to be the only one finding any enjoyment in this family dinner they had all gathered for while Jamie and Myrcella were still here. She had charred amicably with anyone who would entertain her. She was the only one doing much of anything but silently glaring. 

Cersei said nothing to Jamie the entire dinner and would glare at Jamie anytime Myrcella called him father. Once, Jamie might have been intimidated into submission by her glares but now he was uncowed. He would instead glare right back at her. 

Tommen was somehow even more unruly than his mother was. He had made sure to ignore everything both Jamie or Cersei said to him and outside of a cordial greeting to Prince Trystane he had ignored him as well. At least he was conversing with Myrcella who he was very clearly happy to see again. He was completely indifferent to Jamie being called his father and no one saying anything to prove the opposite. He didn’t acknowledge Jamie as his father or say the opposite. He didn’t even acknowledge him at all and Jamie almost wished he would yell at him and deny that he was his father. He knew how to handle rage but the cold indifference hurt more than anything he might have said aloud. 

Jamie sighed and ate one of the bite-sized portions that had been cut up for him as yey another awkward silence descended on them. Jamie tried desperately to break it up. 

“So what do you think of the food here Prince Trystane?” Jamie asked searching for a safe topic of conversation. “How does it compare to the cuisine of Dorne?”

Trystane swallowed what he had been eating and wiped his mouth with his handkerchief before speaking. “It’s very good, Lord Jamie.” He cleared his throat. “Less spicy then I am used to but good.” 

Myrcella swatted Trystane’s arm hard enough that he hissed through clenched teeth. “My husband is to polite to say this but we find it a bit bland. The foods in Dorne are much more flavorful.” She turned to Jamie with big doe eyes. “You will find us a Dornish chef, won’t you Father? We definitely prefer the cuisine from Dorne over the western dishes.” 

Jamie forced himself to smile. “I’m sure we can find some sort of arrangement that will allow you to eat the food that you enjoy best.” Of course, the flavorful dishes of Dorne with their rich tastes and spicy bite made it all the easier to hide poison within them. 

Myrcella beamed. “Thank you, father.” 

Jamie smiled, a genuine one this time. 

  
“I’ve never had food from Dorne, we must try some before you leave for Casterly Rock,” Tommen interjected with a happy smile as he conversed with his sister.

“Oh yes,” Myrcella gushed. “You’ll love it, it’s simply divine.” 

“Leave?” Cersei hissed as she glared at Jamie. “Why on earth would she leave for Casterly Rock?” She took a long drink from her chalice filled with rich red wine. “She will stay here with her mother and brother.” 

Tommen was surprisingly the one who spoke next. “Surely, you’ve heard mother? Uncle Jamie has left the King’s Guard and will be taking up his rightful place as Lord of Casterly Rock like grandfather had always wanted. He’s named Myrcella as his heir.” He explained, Jamie knew it wasn’t for his sake but for Myrcella’s and maybe himself as well. He probably did not want to see Cersei and him fight over this when it was likely already hard enough for Myrcella as is. 

Cersei sniffed. “I did hear that particularly fictitious rumor.” She took another perfectly graceful sip from her chalice. “But it is just that, a rumor, and a false one at that.” She glared at Jamie to try to cow him into submission like she always had.

Today Jamie would not bend however, there was too much at stake. “It’s not a rumor I’m afraid. I’ve taken up my Lordship as our father always wanted and I named  _ my daughter _ as my heir.”

“She’s not your daughter,” Cersei shrieked shrilly. “You did not raise her! I did! You can not take her away from me again!” 

Jamie forced himself to quell his rage. She had been the one who demanded that he not be present in his children’s life for fear of Robert finding out and now she was mad at him for listening to her? He turned to Tommen and inclined his head. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace but could you give me and your mother the room?” He would have asked Cersei to step outside with him but he was fairly certain that she would refuse. “We clearly need to have a conversation.” 

Tommen did not address Jamie again, he simply turned to Myrcella. “Sister, would you and your husband like to visit the kitchens with me? We can try to hunt down some of those Dornish confectionaries you rave so much about.” 

Myrcella glanced at Jamie, obviously worried about him and he gave a slight nod telling her to go. “I would love to Tommen.” 

Jamie and Cersei watched in silence as they left the room with Kettleblack, Blount, and Swann trailing behind them leaving Jamie and Cersei alone with only the silent Ser Gregor guarding them. 

Jamie clenched his jaw. “You seem displeased with me, sister. You sent me to Dorne to bring back our daughter and I did.” He snarled. “Alive and unharmed.”  _ Just with a noose around her neck.  _

“I wanted  _ MY  _ daughter back here with me! I wanted her free from those venomous snakes, not married to one! I want  _ MY  _ daughter back and you are taking her away from me again!” Cersei snarled her voice ringing with vitriol. “You failed me, Jaime, you failed.” 

Jamie in the sanctity of his own mind agreed with her venomous barbs but he would never admit that out loud and certainly not to her. “She is in love with her Prince as much as you might wish otherwise, she is happy. Myrcella is my daughter and my heir as well. She and her husband will return to Casterly Rock with me and live there with her  _ father. _ ”

“You are not her father!” She spat, spittle flying everywhere as she raged at him.

“I’m not?” He feigned confusion and looked around the room. “Then who is? We all know it’s not Robert.” He took a step towards her. “Is it perhaps Lancel? Oh I know, it must be Moon Boy.: He tapped his chin pretending to be thinking. “No that’s wrong it must be Kettleblack, but which one? Perhaps both?” 

Fear flashed through Cersei’s eyes so briefly that in a better frame of mind he might have thought it to only be his imagination. “I should have known you would be stupid enough to believe the baseless accusations against me. Those are naught but lies made up by _ our _ enemies.” She said in a haughty lilt.

Jamie took another step towards her and was now close enough to smell her perfume. She smelled of lavender and it was all too tempting to fall back into her arms and forget that she was a lying whore. “You really think I’m that stupid? You really think I would fall for that bullshit?”  _ Again  _ he thought to himself privately. “I know you’ve been fucking Lancel behind my back and I know the charges against you are legitimate.”

Cersei blinked, seemingly stunned that he had not fallen for her lies again. That he had finally grown a backbone and defied her. She quickly recovered and fell back on her previous argument. “You.” She took another step towards him. “Are.” Another step and he could see the sweat on her forehead. “Not.” Jamie took a step backward as she advanced again. “Her.” Jamie took another step backward as she advanced on him like a vulture eyeing a tasty morsel. “Father.” She once again closed the distance between them and Jamie backpedaled. “You did not raise her.” She took another step to bridge the gap between them and when Jamie tried to retreat he crashed into the wall. “I did.” Cersei snarled as she hit his chest.

Up this close to her was a hazard, he wanted her bad. He could feel her hot breath on his neck as his hairs stood up, waiting. He wanted to turn his anger on her as the lying whore mewled under him with pain and pleasure. He wanted to take her soft, sweet, sinful lips with brute force and force his way down her throat. He wanted to treat her like the lying whore that she was and have his way with her. 

But he could not do that, he knew that if he fell back into bed with her he would cave to her demands and bend to her will. He had to protect his daughter and he couldn’t do that if he let his sister control him any longer. So with thoughts of his daughter in mind, he took a step forward and shoved Cersei away from him with his one good hand and put her on the backfoot. Ser Gregor put a hand on the pommel of his greatsword but did not move otherwise.

“Raise her?” He questioned aloud. “I didn’t raise her because you wouldn’t let me!” He was surprised by the vitriol in his own voice. He did not realize he had harbored that much resentment about this before now. “You were too worried about your  _ dear husband  _ finding out just how much of a whore you were. You told me not to interact with my own kids and I the fool that I was I listened.” He vented. “Well no more,” Jamie swore vehemently. “I will not bow to your selfishness again. I will be a father to my children and not just a sperm donor anymore.” 

She flinched back as if he had physically struck her before sobbing. “I’m sorry Jamie,” she moaned. “I haven’t let you be there for your children... I was just so scared of people finding out and trying to take them away from me.” She stepped forward and gripped his left hand in both of hers. “Let us do this right, we’ll raise our children together, here in Kings Landing as a family.”

Jamie wished he could accept her desperate plea but he could not. He had to leave and take Myrcella with him to keep her safe, giving Cersei what she wanted would result in the death of their daughter. So Jamie forced himself to remember what Tyrion had told him;  _ Cersei is a lying whore, she’s been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and probably Moon Boy for all I know _ . He chose to instead focus on his anger. 

“No.” He snarled with a venom he no longer felt. “My daughter and I will return to Casterly Rock where we belong. If you would like to come with us then I will not stop you.” He, of course, knew she would decline his offer, which would require her to leave Tommen alone with the “evil” Queen Margaery. She would not be able to control the kingdom anymore and he knew she would always put power over him.

Cersei changed tactics. “Please,” Cersei begged him. “If you go through with this then everyone will know that the accusations are true. I-I’ll be killed for being unfaithful and sleeping with you.” 

Janie snorted. “We both know you are guilty and so does everyone else. The trial will be by combat and Ser Gregor will kill whatever combatant that the faith finds. The trial is a farce and my actions will have no impact on the outcome.”

Cersei quit her broken facade once it was clear she couldn’t appeal to him anyway. She stepped back in his face, all tears gone and snarled. “I won’t let you take my daughter away from me.”

Jamie laughed at that. “You don’t have a say in the matter. She is returning with me to Casterly Rock when the week is done. The only way you could change that is by killing me.”

He took some perverse pleasure in watching her squirm as she realized just how little she could do about it. He was protecting Myrcella for his daughter’s sake but he couldn’t deny that it felt good to hurt Cersei half as much as she had hurt him.  _ Cersei is a lying whore, she’s been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and probably Moon Boy for all I know. _

Cersei looked back at Ser Gregor who had half of his sword unsheathed. For a moment Jamie thought she would give him the order to cut him down but that moment passed and she simply lifted her head and strode away from him, her dress billowing behind her as her heels clicked against the stone floor as she receded from him with Ser Gregor trailing her like a loyal puppy.

Jamie scoffed and watched as she walked away. Once she was out of sight he too exited the dining hall, leaving his dinner unfinished. She was all bark and no bite. 

-

“You asked to see me, Your Grace?” Jamie asked as he entered the solar of King Tommen. He had been told by Ser Balon Swamm that the king had requested his presence at his earliest possible convenience. Tommen was the king so Jamie had, of course, come immediately. 

“Sit, Lord Jamie.” He greeted him with a smile and gestured to the open chair across from him. 

Jamie frowned at the formal address but did as bidded. He had selfishly hoped that Tommen summoned him because he wanted to see his father and finally was willing to acknowledge that was Jamie, not Robert. Unfortunately judging by the use of his official title it was business that his son wanted from him. 

“I would like you to lead the Lannister armies up north to Riverrun.” Tommen began to explain but Jamie cut him off.

“This is Cersei’s idea, isn’t it?” Jamie snarled leaping to his feet. “She’s trying to keep me away from my daughter.” 

Tommen did not flinch at Jamie’s raised voice. “I give you a lot of leeway because of your relation to my mother but I am still the King and I will be treated with the proper respect.” He commanded in his most authoritarian voice but it came across poorly as his voice cracked showing his true age. 

“Apologies, Your Grace,” Jamie said with his head bowed. “I forgot my place, I assure you it will not happen again.”

Tommen puffed up his chest, no doubt trying to intimidate him but it was more amusing than anything. “See that it doesn’t.”

Once Jamie had retaken his seat, Tommen spoke again. “When the Frey’s agreed to break guest right and murder the Stark’s at the red wedding, your father Lord Tywin Lannister promised the Frey’s Riverrun. The Frey’s have not yet received the lands promised to them by House Lannister. You are now Lord Lannister and a Lannister always pays their debts so it is your duty to help them claim their Lands.” 

“Is that an order from the King?” Jamie asked through gritted teeth. 

Tommen nodded. “That is an order.” He looked into Jamie’s eyes. “You will leave at once to break their siege and take the castle. Take as many of your men as you need with you. Myrcella will stay here in King’s Landing until your return and when you return you will both be permitted to return to Casterly Rock until your services are once again required.”

Jamie stood and gave a stiff bow. “If that is all, Your Grace.” His voice was dripping with polite sarcasm but Tommen didn’t notice or just didn’t care.

He gave a firm nod. “It is.” 

Jamie hurried through the door and was almost free when Tommen called out again. “Uncle Jamie.” Jamie turned in his direction. “I’m sorry but I need my sister here right now, just until I get my Margaery back.” Jamie forced himself to smile and then spun back around and closed the door behind him. 

This was very clearly Cersei’s work. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trial by combat is not being outlawed here, like in the books. Outlawing the trial by combat just led to the moronic decision to blow up the sept and have everyone still love Cersei more than Dany in spite of it? In this, like in the books, there is a trial by combat it just must be fought by a member of the Kingsguard. It's out of character for the faith to choose to end the trial by combat and for their to be no pushback to them doing so.
> 
> Tommen's characterization might be worse than season 8 Jon in the show. Despite his mother imprisoning his wife who he clearly loves dearly, he still clings to her guidance and lets her rule the kingdom in his name, driving it into ruin. In this, he will be gullible but not stupid. In this, during Cersei's imprisonment, Olenna spoke to him and placed the blame for Margaery's predicament on Cersei's shoulders. As such Tommen is rightfully furious with Cersei for her actions and his anger has driven a rift between him and his mother.
> 
> You can decide for yourself if it's Tommen or Cersei's decision to send Jamie away, both make some sense as both would want to keep Myrcella close for similar reasons. Jamie obviously believes it's the latter. 
> 
> This Friday we get Daenerys hearing of Jon's parentage and her reaction to the news. 
> 
> Thanks for reading. Make sure to leave Kudos and review the story, also subscribe so you don't miss any future chapters.


	15. Daenerys III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys learns of Jon's existence.

It was truly incredible the power that fear held. One savage attack by Rhaegal on the Harpies one night and the Harpes actions almost completely ceased. The fear for their lives had caused a temporary ceasefire between the Masters and the Free Men. She knew it would not last, fear alone was not how she wanted to rule but the peace that he had wrought in the short term was much appreciated. 

Rhaegal had stopped visiting her at night, instead, he now would visit in the mornings and Daenerys had begun waking up earlier in order to still see him. She wasn’t sure why he flipped the times but it didn’t matter. He was still there with her at some point during the day. He was still the only one of her dragons who behaved at all that way, so human like. 

“Your Grace,” Missandei said as she stood in the doorway to Daenerys’s private chambers. “Ser Jorah Mormont and Daario Naharis have returned and are waiting for your judgment in the throne room.” 

Daenerys smiled. They were finally back from their expedition to find her, her brave old bear, and her lover. She rose from her chair and immediately rushed down to the throne room. She knew it was improper but she had missed them terribly. 

“You did not find her?” She heard Tyrion ask. “So we are to presume the Queen is dead?” 

“I’m afraid so,” Jorah whispered somberly. “I failed her.” 

“How do we proceed from here?” Tyrion mused aloud as he drummed his fingers on a goblet that was no doubt filled with wine. “Do we hold Meereen in her name or do we go to Westeros and take the throne from my vile sister and “break the wheel” as she would say.” 

Daenerys decided that Tyrion had enough fun and cleared her throat from where she stood in the doorway. All of their heads shot towards her. 

“Khaleesi,” Jorah murmured and dropped to a knee before her. At the same time, Daario shouted, “My Queen!” And rushed towards her. 

Daenerys took a step back away from him as much as she had missed his company in her bed, he needed to remember his place. He did just so and took a knee before her as well.

She looked towards Tyrion who had a wide grin on his face. “That was cruel, Lord Tyrion.” She chastised him but her eyes were filled with mirth. She had found it slightly amusing as well and she knew Tyrion had not meant any real harm by it. 

“Apologies, Your Grace.” He said with a sweeping bow but the grin did not leave his face for even a moment. 

She looked back at the still kneeling Daario and Ser Jorah. “You may rise.”

They rose to her feet and Daenerys ignored Daario in favor of addressing Ser Jorah. “I banished you, why have you returned to Meereen again?” 

Ser Jorah did not flinch or show any signs of fear at what might happen to him for refusing to listen to what she had commanded. “I swore I would be by your side until the day I die, I promised to shield you always and give you my best council if you have need of it. Anything you want of me, I will give you. If that is my head than I will gladly offer it to you.” 

Daenerys sighed. “I banished you twice. You came back twice disobeying my commands. And you saved my life. So I can’t forget that you betrayed me and failed to follow through on my orders but I can’t send you away and punish your loyalty to me nor can I forget that you saved my life.” She looked over at Tyrion. “Lord Tyrion, what would you advise me to do in this situation.” 

Tyrion took a long drink from his chalice. “It’s a difficult situation, Your Grace. You can not reward disobedience and you can not punish for loyalty. So you do neither.” He paused and took another drink from his chalice. “Forgive me for this example but Lord Stannis Baratheon when a smuggler smuggled in food for them during the siege on Storms End, he took the smugglers fingers for his crimes and knighted him for his actions. Perhaps you should do something similar to Ser Jorah for both his services and his betrayal.” 

Daenerys thought about what Tyrion had advised it was sensible but how to do so. She could not butcher him and take a hand, she needed him able to fight when they went to war, taking a hand would likely lead to his death in combat. He had no value to her as an adviser anymore, she couldn’t trust him again but she knew that he would insist on fighting so taking a hand would be the equivalence of taking his life. She sighed and stepped down towards Jorah. She didn’t want to do this but she had no choice. 

“Ser Jorah Mormont, I strip you of all ranks and titles. Any claims you have to lands and your family name. From now on you will be known as just Jorah.” Daenerys declared and her heart burned when she saw the tears in Jorah’s eyes but even still he bowed his head in acceptance. “However, as a reward for your services and for saving my life, you are no longer banished. You will be permitted to stay in Meereen and stand by my side. You will not have a place in my council but you will be allowed to serve as a soldier and a guard in my army. In time you may be able to regain your place.” 

Ser Jorah dropped to his knees and beyond a quiet, “Thank you Khaleesi,” said nothing. Daenerys watched him with sad eyes but she knew she had no choice in the matter. She had to punish him somehow but she had also given him what he wanted and she would not have to part from him again. 

She turned towards Daario. “Your loyalty has exceeded that of what would have been expected of any sellsword. Even without promises of gold, you rode off into the Dothraki sea and even into the heart of Vaes Dothrak searching for me. For your loyalty, I’ll reward you with a title, from this day forth you shall be known as Ser Daario, Knight of Meereen and the Seven Kingdoms.” 

Daenerys doubted that Daario would care about the title she had given him. He did not care about the code of a knight nor did he care about how he was addressed. The move was both selfish and political. A knight would be a much more fit consort for a Queen than a sellsword although she knew people would still grumble about his position as her bedwarmer. The title being given to a lowly sellsword also showed that she would reward loyalty with honor. She hoped that by Daario receiving such a title it would encourage other sellswords to be loyal to more than just the gold they received for their services.

She stepped towards Daario who was kneeling before her after receiving the title. She crouched down so her lips were level with his ear. “I expect you in my bed chambers tonight, Ser Daario.” She whispered to him, her voice thick with desire. 

She rose and turned her back to the still kneeling men, heading to her own chambers to prepare for Daario’s visit. She made sure to take extra care and swing her hips as she receded from them and she was sure that she could feel Daario’s eyes glued to her backside. Okay, maybe that title she had given him had been almost entirely selfish. 

-

Daenerys was sad to see when she woke up that her bed was empty, Daario had apparently already left her. That was unfortunate she had wanted him to pleasure her in the morning but the few rounds they did last night would have to be enough for now. Then she heard the growling. Fearing the worst Daenerys shot out of bed all drowsiness gone and was met with the most amusing sight.

Daario was pinned in the corner as he desperately tried to pull his pants up so he could leave her chambers. Looming in front of him was Rhaegal’s large head that had crept through her balcony to bully her lover. He was obviously jealous that she had dared to spend the morning in bed with Daario instead of speaking with him. Rhaegal had been very possessive of her lately and always tried to find time by her side. 

Daenerys laughed and Daario shot her a betrayed look. She ignored him and called out to Rhaegal. “Rhaegal!” 

His head snapped up and turned to her. At her glare, his head slunk back from a fleeing Daario and nuzzled into her hand. She gently stroked Rhaegals face and watched as he left without putting on his shirt and didn’t even bother to close the door behind him. Daenerys made sure to do that herself and lock it as well, it was bad enough that she was going to have this conversation with Rhaegal, she would not let anyone else witness it as well. 

She sat down on a plush armchair over by the window and Rhaegal’s head quickly found her lap and she stroked his green scales with a small smile. Eventually, she spoke to him, “Play nice with Daario.” She chastised him. He growled quietly in reply but lacked any heat in the action. “I need him.” She whispered quietly.

Rhaegal lifted his head off of her lap and shook it as if to say she didn’t. “I do,” Daenerys protested. “Not like I need you but I do need him.” She blushed in spite of herself this was a very odd conversation to have with a dragon. “I have needs,” she tried to explain. “Sometimes I need a man to uh mate with me?” She blushed again and glanced down, she wasn’t sure if Rhaegal could even understand this at all. “It doesn’t have to be Daario but I do need someone to warm my bed and it can’t be you, you’re not a human. Sometimes I have to make time for others as well- you can’t have me all to yourself.” 

She looked back at Rhaegal and noted that he almost looked jealous? Was he upset that she had only hatched male dragons and he wanted a mate of his own? Or was he upset that she was with Daario instead of the mornings that had been their time? She couldn’t say which but it almost looked like he was jealous of it being Daario who was in her bed? She must be mad to think such a thing. 

“I’m sorry I did not birth you any female dragons,” She apologized to Rhaegal who immediately looked away as if he was embarrassed. “I wish I could give you someone to mate with for yourself but I can’t.”

Rhaegal shook his head, was she wrong or was he in denial? Or maybe she was completely mad and his head movement meant nothing at all. “I’m sorry you can’t mate Rhaegal but I will not deny myself my own pleasure to feel your misery.” She told him firmly. 

Rhaegal shook his head as if it’s that not what he had wanted and Daenerys was extremely confused. Was he just jealous that Daario had stolen his time with her? “Come, let me tell you about yesterday.” She patted her lap and his head immediately rested on her legs. Yes, it was definitely just Daario stealing their time together.

-

“Send in the next petitioner.” Daenerys declared with a slight wave of her hand and watched as Ser Jorah stepped back outside to escort the next petitioner in to see her. 

It was definitely an adjustment having Ser Jorah with her again but not actually with her. Just Jorah not Ser anymore. She corrected herself, she took that title from him. She had sent him to Greyworm to be used like the Unsullied in guarding her city and protecting her. She could not trust him with sensitive information ever again but she did trust him to protect her and her city.

The next man practically sprinted in to see her with Jorah trailing behind him. A former slave she could tell by his dress and the scars he bore on his face and arms. He had a light skin than most of the men in Essos, something more akin to the colder climates of Westeros. He did not bother to bow when he entered or even let Missandei list her titles, instead immediately jumping right into his request with no decorum. 

“Your Grace, I ask your permission to take a man’s head.” He spat clearly angered by something or another. 

Daenerys raised an eyebrow, amused by his demands and ignored his lack of formalities. Surely he knew the answer would be no. Like it was for all the freed slaves who wanted all the masters dead, and when she had first taken the throne petitioned her for just that. “Which man is that?”

“Ser Jorah Mormont.” The man said coldly.

Daenerys froze, why did a slave have an issue with her sworn sword? Why did he desire his head so much? She obviously could not give it to him but she would hear his reasoning and likely give him reparation in some other way. “For what offense?” 

The man turned and looked at Jorah who was standing in the doorway at his post as he was supposed to, he showed no reaction to a man asking for his head. Unflinching and resolute in his desire to protect her like the unsullied he served beside.

“That man,” he spat with venom. “Tore me away from my wife and newborn daughter. He stole me away from my home. That man sold me to fight in the pits of Meereen for my own life. He sold me so he could live a little bit better and condemned me to hell. It’s only fair that he goes to hell himself.” 

Daenerys paused and for once had no answer for the man. She knew that Jorah had sold slaves and been banished from Westeros for his crimes but she had never actually reconciled that fact with herself. She had kept the Jorah before they had met separate from her brave old bear, the one who was by her side and loyal beyond any rational concepts. 

But now she was forced to accept that they were the same person. His past might not matter to her because she knew who he was now but it did matter to other people. To her people. She couldn’t give the man Jorah’s head as he wanted but he couldn’t stand by her side either. 

She had assigned him to guard her streets and protect her and her city but she hadn’t considered how that assignment would affect her people. This man might be the only one bold enough to confront her about his past but he was almost certainly not the only person in Meereen that Jorah had sold. 

He might be protecting her people and her people might be safer because of it but they would not feel safe. They would be scared and distrustful because of his presence. She could not have him patrolling her streets and protecting her city as she had wanted. 

Yet at the same time, he was a symbol, a symbol that the Masters could change. He was a man who sold men into slavery and now he helped her break off chains. He could represent hope to the Masters that they could have a place in her new world, that she could forgive their past transgressions if they worked to move past them. That they could change.

But a traitorous part of her mind whispered to herself. Had he really changed? She knew Jorah went to insane lengths for the woman he had loved. He hadn’t sold men and women into slavery or condemned children into damnation because he was a mean or cruel man. He had done it because he was in love with a woman with expensive tastes that he would do anything to quench. 

Was his regret for his actions in selling people a facade to earn her love? Or did he only regret what he had done because he lost his wife anyway. Did he regret the actions or the consequences of them? If Daenerys asked him to kidnap men from their families and put them in shackles would he obey?

He didn’t help her end slavery in Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen because he wanted slavery to end and thought it an abomination that had to be abolished. He had done it because he was in love with her and would do anything for her. He had not returned to her side and saved her life because it was right, he had done it because he was in love with her. His motivation had never changed, just the object of his desires. She knew that if he had to make a decision between her life and all of the lives in Meereen he would choose her and that scared her. He was a lovestruck fool who would go to any lengths to serve the woman he loved. He was not a good man or a horrible one just a fool. 

She looked back at the free man who Jorah had once sold and then back at Jorah. “Are his accusations true Jorah?” 

“I can not say if I sold him particularly but I did sell many men into slavery Khaleesi,” Jorah admitted quietly. Was he ashamed of his past actions or was he acting this way because he knew she didn’t approve? 

“What was the price you sold him for?” Daenerys asked Jorah in a more assured tone than she truly felt. 

Jorah looked down and refused to meet her eyes. “Most able-bodied men with no experience in combat or skilled at a particular trade sold for somewhere in the range of 500 silver pieces.” 

Five hundred pieces of silver? That was it? He had valued human life so little that he had sold men into slavery for what was essentially two gold dragons? A human sold for only slightly more than a horse? Expensive wines sold for more than that by the barrel. 

“453!” The man called out. “That’s how much you sold me for.” 

It was even worse then she had thought. Slavery was a terrible thing and anyone who partook in selling people for so little coin had to be evil to even consider doing such a thing. Yet she knew Jorah wasn’t evil. No, just selfish, she corrected herself. Anyone who partook in slavery was incredibly selfish but Lord Tyrion was right, they weren’t evil. Jorah was not evil just selfish and a lovestruck fool. Just like he was now. 

She turned back to the free man. “I can not give you what you ask for,” She apologized, sincerely. She didn’t want to kill Jorah but she almost wished she did- it would be easier to give him justice. If Jorah hadn’t saved her life, she might have done just that. She had promised him she would if he returned to Meereen after all. But he had returned and saved her life. She did not want him dead. “Jorah saved my life and I would not be just if I took his for his faithful and loyal service.” 

Loyal Daenerys laughed internally. This was the man who had spied on her for the Usurper for a year. He had betrayed her. He had been loyal recently but could she truly call him loyal? What if he ever fell in love with another woman?

The man stepped up towards her and the Unsullied that flanked her stepped in his way. “What about the rest of us? All those lives that he stole? The men sold by him who died in the pits or the women who were raped for the Masters’s amusement? Where is our justice?” He roared at her clearly upset by her decision.

Daenerys couldn’t give him what he wanted even if she wanted to and a part of her did. Like she had told every other petitioner asking for a Master’s head she would not punish for what they had done before slavery had been outlawed. She could not take all their heads, she needed to end the cycle of prejudice and violence. She needed to break the wheel. “I will not punish men for what they did before slavery was outlawed. It would not be fair or just. I’m sorry that you were wronged but I can not offer you your vengeance.” 

“I understand that but correct me if I’m wrong, Your Grace but..,” he sneered her title. “... was slavery not already outlawed in Westeros where I was abducted from? His actions were punishable in both mine, and his lands when he committed them- the very lands you yourself hail from. So should he not be punished?” 

Daenerys didn’t know how to answer his plea. He was not wrong Jorah probably should be punished for his crimes. Before the Usurper pardoned him he had the choice of death or The Wall. He instead chose to flee to Essos and continue his vile ways. She didn’t want to send him away again, selfishly. She knew that she should at least banish him if not sentence him to the wall or mark him for death. She wouldn’t do that, she cared too much for him even if it wasn’t the best decision. 

“I can not give you his life but I have punished him for his crimes.” Just not the crimes of selling people but of betraying me and refusing to stay away. “Jorah No Name has been stripped of all lands, titles, and claims to his own name as reparation for his past sins. It is not his life but that is not something I can take from him and call myself just.” She declared in a firm voice but she felt none of that confidence she exuded. “Jorah will personally repay you for the price he sold you for, seven times over. I offer to take you with me when I return to Westeros, I will return you to your family and restore any lands you once had.”

“No amount of gold can repay ten years of servitude.” He spoke quietly but to Daenerys, he could not have been any louder. “No gold can make up for missing my daughter’s first steps.” Daenerys’s heart burned and she forced away her tears. She had cost that man the chance to be a father, she had deprived a girl of her parents and forced her into a horrible position- possibly being alone in the world- like she had been this man’s child was now parentless. The worst part was Daenerys agreed with him, there was no repayment for that but she had sworn herself to a path of peace and diplomacy not just fear and vengeance- repentance and redemption so even if it was not Jorah who he wanted she had to deny him his desire. So she hid all of that doubt behind her Queenly facade and stared at him emotionlessly. 

He backed down. “Thank you for your wisdom and justice, Your Grace.” He sneered and spat at her feet before leaving the keep without a backward glance or even the slightest sign of respect for her. Her guards made to apprehend him but she waved them off. He was right to be angry with her, she was angry with her own decision.

-

Daenerys stroked Rhaegal’s head on her lap after she had awoken and told him about the events of the previous day as she always did every morning since their return from the Dothraki sea. 

Well with the exception of the first night after Daario had returned when he stayed in her bed. Since then Daario had made sure to leave after they finished their passionate activities every night. He would leave her to sleep alone, too scared of Rhaegal to risk spending the night again. 

She had awoken earlier than usual today, plagued by the thoughts of her decision the previous day. Nightmares of the man’s wife and daughter being dead because of Jorah’s actions and her just staring blankly and offering nothing in return for their lives that her man had taken had awoken her in a cold sweat. Thankfully, Rhaegal was there for her when she awoke. 

She had told him of the man who had been sold by Ser Jorah Mormont and of her inability to reconcile who Jorah was and has become. She told him of her own nightmare- only to him could she show weakness. She had told him of her desire to give the people their vengeance and repay the masters for their cruelty but her inability to do so to stop the cycle of violence. She had to break the wheel not grease it or change the wheel but break it. 

Their time this morning was interrupted by Ser Jorah and Missandei. “Your Grace, Varys is calling an early emergency council meeting. He says he has news that can not wait.” Missandei told her in high valyrian as she burst into the room. 

Daenerys frowned. Varys technically did not have the power to call an emergency council meeting. Especially not one this early in the morning even if Daenerys herself had been awake for hours, what did he have that could not wait until a later hour to share? Still, it was a one-time thing and if his information proved to be that much of a concern then she would allow it. If not then she would make it very clear to him that he did not have that power, actually she would probably do that either way. He should take the information to her or Ser Barristan and they would decide if it warrants calling an emergency council. 

She kissed Rhaegal gently on the head and promised to speak to him once again tomorrow morning before following Missandei out of her chambers and to the solar they always held the council meetings in. 

“Stay here and guard my chambers.” She ordered Jorah knowing that he would follow them if she didn’t directly tell him otherwise. She had Jorah pulled from the rotation of guarding the city knowing it made her people uncomfortable and had assigned him strictly to guarding the pyramid. Not her person though even if she knew that he would do that zealously but her possessions. She could not trust him to be by her side where he would hear secrets that he could then give to her enemies to betray her once again. She believed he was loyal but she couldn’t chance it. 

As they walked the halls with only moderate urgency, Daenerys turned to Missandei; “Do you have any idea why Varys is calling a council meeting so early?”

Missandei shook her head. “None, Your Grace.” She stopped for a moment. “Perhaps he heard back from the Masters of Yunkai and Astapor. Perhaps he called a meeting to inform us all that they rejected your more than generous offer of mercy.” 

Daenerys thought that had to be the case but it still didn’t seem a good enough reason to call a council meeting this early when they had one scheduled already for tomorrow. Surely their response wasn’t that urgent unless it was a declaration of war. She feared the worst, knowing that no good news would ever be considered so urgent. 

She and Missandei were the last to arrive in the solar, the rest of her council looked as confused as Daenerys was. They all were in various states of drowsiness with Daario even dozing on the table and Daenerys was probably the most alert of them all having got up this early for the last week to see Rhaegal. Except for Varys who had an unsettling grin on his face. She took her seat at the head of the table and Missandei as her translator since they did not all speak the same language at least fluently sat beside her. 

“It is not your place to call council meetings, Lord Varys.” She reprimanded him. “Next time you have urgent news, bring it to me or Ser Barristan first and let us decide if it warrants a full council meeting.”

He bowed his head. “Apologies, Your Grace, but I think you’ll agree that this could not wait for even a second longer.” 

“Yet you make us wait even now with your inane babble.” She heard Lord Tyrion mutter quietly before taking a drink from his chalice. 

“Share what news you have to say,” Daenerys ordered. 

“I have news from The Wall,” Varys said and everyone turned to him in complete dismay. 

Daenerys herself was incredulous, this was urgent news? She had asked for news of all the happenings in Westeros and the wall was included in that. She had heard of the Lord Commander Jon Stark’s foolish decision to let the wildlings south of the wall because he had taken to believing in fairy tales. Surely he did not think the unsurprising event of the wildlings rebelling was really worth an emergency council meeting? She was sure that they were fine people like the Dothraki, not just savages but you don’t just erase centuries of bad blood in an instant.

“The Wall?” You woke us up this early for the fucking Wall?” Ser Daario cried out. He was not a morning person as Daenerys very well knew by now with how often he had awoken in her bed hours after her. The only way he was happy to be woken up early was with a woman waking him up by pleasuring him. 

Lord Tyrion was even more snarky. “Did they find a Grumkin? Or was it a Snark this time?” 

“Lord Snow claims so but that’s not what the meeting is about,” Varys explained with a smile clearly unaffected by all the open hostility towards him. 

“Lord Stark,” Daenerys absentmindedly corrected him. She refused to acknowledge the concept of bastardy and treat them any differently. He was the son of Eddard Stark so he was Lord Stark, not Snow. 

“I’m afraid not, Your Grace.” Varys apologized looking only nervous for once. “I don’t know how to say this..” He trailed off for a moment. “The Lord Commander was killed in a mutiny at Castle Black, by his own men, not the wildlings.” 

Ser Barristan spoke next and well he was not angry he was clearly perplexed. “That is tragic and noteworthy news for sure but surely that does not warrant an emergency council meeting?” 

Varys nodded in agreement. “Normally that would not, I thought little of it when I received the news a few days ago.” He took a deep breath seemingly to prepare himself to deliver more news. “But the Lord Commander did not stay dead.” 

Tyrion outright guffawed at that. “You called us here because of a fairy tale? Surely you did not believe your source’s silly rumor of dead men walking.” The looks on everyone else’s faces echoed his sentiments. 

“I didn’t,” Varys admitted. “When the first raven arrived carrying this silly rumor in its talons I tossed it aside. I did the same with the second source and the third as well. But when seventeen different ravens arrive from both men of the Night’s Watch and wildlings claiming that thousands witnessed his resurrection, you’re forced to realize that the rumors of dead men walking are true.” 

Varys sighed. “Jon Stark was dead for seven days but when his funeral pyre was lit Jon Snow came back to life and walked out of the flames, Unburnt.” 

Daenerys froze. She was the unburnt, the only Targaryen. The one immune to fire when no Targaryen had been for generations before her since the days of dragons, before the dance. That was her title, not this usurpers’. He could not steal everything she had worked so hard for in her life. This had to be a lie, she needed it to be one. Yet, a part of her rejoiced that she was not the last Targaryen. Her house would no longer die with her.

Varys continued to speak as if there was nothing wrong with what he just said. “When Jon Snow rose out of his funeral pyre it was a roaring flame but he was unburnt. He burnt the red priestess of the Lord of Light, Melisandre of Asshai who resurrected him alive claiming she sacrificed Shireen Baratheon to do so with the consent of her father, Stannis Baratheon. One of my sources claims the woman confessed to having done so.” 

Daenerys closed her eyes remembering the words that would always haunt her, the price she had paid for her dragons. Only death can pay for life. She had sacrificed her own son and another man had sacrificed his daughter to bring back Jon Stark. 

“Surely this is a one-off event?” Tyrion protested. “A side effect of the resurrection ritual, you can’t actually believe Jon Sno-Stark is a Targaryen.” He proclaimed, completely incredulous. 

Varys shook his head. “I’m afraid that is the case. One of my little birds claims he stuck his hand in the flames before he burnt the red priestess and it still came away unburnt.” He sighed once more and looked towards Daenerys. “I believe he is the child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.” 

Daenerys knew that was a possibility, Lyanna had been pregnant when Rhaegar had left her. Could her child have really been raised as the bastard of Eddard Stark? 

Tyrion did not think so. “Why would Lord Stark ever claim a Targaryen as his own bastard? Why would he protect the byproduct of his sister’s rape? He was the staunchest supporter of the Baratheon reign, he was the King’s best friend. He practically put King Robert on the throne himself. Why on earth would he risk everything to save a Targaryen born of rape? Lord Stark hated the Targaryens, why on earth would he protect one.” He ranted. 

“My brother did not rape Lyanna.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them and all eyes turned to her. “They were in love and ran away together.” She closed her eyes and admitted the terrifying and yet wonderful truth. “She was pregnant with his child when Rhaegar left to go fight the war, it’s not impossible that Jon Stark is that child.” But it’s not likely either.

Tyrion was persistent. “I still see no reason for Eddard Stark to claim the child as his own.” Or maybe he was just too stubborn to admit that he too had been fooled and believed him to be Lord Eddard’s son and nothing more. “He hated the Targaryen’s as much as anyone. He wanted them all dead.” 

Ser Barristan spoke up. “You’re wrong Lord Tyrion. I can’t claim to know if Jon Stark is really a Targaryen but Lord Eddard Stark does not want all the Targaryens dead. When he was Hand of The King, King Robert wanted to send assassins after the Queen Daenerys when he heard she was pregnant. Lord Stark refused to accept his decision and even attempted to resign as hand when he sent them. When King Robert was laying dying, Eddard came out from seeing him and immediately claimed that His Grace had a change of heart and no longer wanted Her Grace dead. At the time I thought it was just him not wanting to murder an innocent child for the sake of his honor but perhaps there was more to it than that, perhaps he was truly trying to protect his kin.” Ser Barristan sighed. “Lord Stark was not the kind of man to sire a bastard- he was too honorable for that. If Jon Stark is truly unburnt then I believe he is a Targaryen and the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna. Even if he is not unburnt, it’s still a serious possibility.” 

Daenerys had never known that about Lord Eddard Stark. Her whole life she had been told he was the Usurper’s dog. She had hated him more than anyone except for Robert Baratheon. Even over the Kingslayer and Tywin Lannister, she had hated him. He and the rest of his family had betrayed his sister and gone to war against her love. He had betrayed his sister for his best friend, chose to let his sister die so his friend could sit the throne. Yet, he had apparently spent his life protecting her and her supposed nephew even at great cost to himself. With that knowledge along with the knowledge of Lyanna’s pregnancy, Daenerys knew that Jon Stark was a Targaryen. She was not the last Targaryen.

A horrifying revelation struck her and Daenerys couldn’t help but laugh. She was so obstinate about breaking the wheel, about treating both bastards and trueborn sons equally and it would stop her from claiming the throne. If Jon Targaryen was truly the bastard of Rhaegar and Lyanna then by her own rules for the new world he had the best claim to the throne as Rhaegar’s son. She could not break the wheel and end the stains of bastardry and inequality without she too conforming to the rules and giving Jon Targaryen the Iron Throne. 

They all looked to her with questioning glances wanting to know what she found so humorous but she refused to divulge any of her thoughts. How many of them would betray her for Jon Targaryen, would Ser Barristan leave her for the son of his good friend Rhaegar instead of serving the Mad King’s daughter? Surely at least Tyrion would abandon her and instead support his old traveling companion who he spoke so highly of and his claim. Would Varys leave her as well like he had so many kings before her? She knew Greyworm and Daario were loyal to her as were all the people she had freed but could she afford to trust her Westerosi advisors? Was that Varys’s intention by revealing the information to her entire council first? Did she want them to abandon her for her bastard nephew?

Even if she gave up her goal of treating bastards equally and selfishly chose to ignore that rule she had wanted to enforce when she was Queen, they would still abandon her. He had a cock, there had never been a Queen ruling Westeros before. The Lords would all flock to follow the male- even the illegitimate one who didn’t want to destroy their way of life. Everyone would choose him and she would be left with nothing, the wheel would keep on spinning and nothing would change. The same people would be oppressed by the powerful and she would be unable to help them. 

No, the only way she could keep her throne was to deny he had any claim to it, to claim that he was not her kin. To shun her only family left, to remain as the last Targaryen. She wanted more than just about anything to have a family, to not let the Targaryen’’s die with her. But she had to put her dream of the perfect world first, she had to focus on the good of all people. A world free of inequality, where bastard and trueborn were treated equally. Where no man had ownership over another. A world where every woman had a choice in who they married. To do that she had to be Queen and she could not be that if another man had a better claim then her. She had to break the wheel and nothing would stand in her way. She had the dragons and the armies, not him, if it was required then she would destroy her only kin for the greater good of her kingdom. 

“What we do with Jon Stark?” Greyworm asked somewhat lost in the conversation. “If she is our Queen’s kin than is he our ally?” 

“We do nothing,” Tyrion spoke next before Daenerys could say anything denying that he was her kin. “He is a man of the Night’s Watch, he has no claims to lands or titles. He can not serve the Queen or take the throne because he is bound by his oath to defend the wall from Grumkins.”

Hope sprung in Daenerys’s chest. Could she really have kin and not have them be a threat to her new world? Could she have both family and her throne and the new world? Dare she hope it? 

Naturally, Varys had to crush her hopes. “The Night’s Watch is an oath until death and Jon Stark died. He is no longer bound by that oath.” Varys tutted. “Even if he was still bound by that oath, Targaryen’s have superseded oaths to the Night’s Watch before, Aemon Targaryen served as Maester at Castle Black but when his brother died he was still offered the throne.” 

Once again Daenerys’s own words haunted her. Targaryen’s are not subject to the rules of Gods or Men. They were better than that and now it might cost her everything she had strived so hard to achieve all because of a man with her blood and by her own rules a better claim to the throne and more importantly a cock. Was all of her suffering for naught? No, he had to be lying to try to steal her birthright. He was not a Targaryen, just another usurper seeking power for themselves. He could not be. But why would he have such an easily disputable story? All someone had to do was burn him for his lie to be exposed, a traitorous part of her mind told her. He must be telling the truth. She shut that part of her mind out, he had to be a usurper grasping for power. The throne belonged to her. She was the one with the Dragons, not this pretender. 

Ser Barristan spoke next and voiced what all of them were thinking. “If Jon Stark is able to come back from the dead then maybe his tales of the Others and the army of the dead aren’t so fanciful. Maybe he’s telling the truth.” 

That was a truly horrifying thought and no one had anything to say after that point. Stark had to be lying for all of their sakes, not just her throne. If there really was an army of the dead, as numerous as Lord Stark proclaimed than they were likely all doomed. He had to by lying. He was lying. He was just a usurper, trying to steal her power. Not her kin but a lying usurper. 

Daenerys stood up abruptly. “These claims about Jon Stark are false.” She declared her will firm and resolute. She could not afford to doubt it. “He is not a Targaryen, Lyanna and Rhaegar’s daughter died with her. He is no kin of mine, just another usurper trying to steal my birthright. Everything he has claimed is a lie with no grain of truth to it.” 

She did not wait for a reaction or any protest. She did not look back to see if they were surprised by her sudden change of heart. She did not want to see them questioning her mental stability, to worry about their inevitable betrayal. She had petitioners to see and she had to forget about Jon Stark. He was nothing to her but the son of the Usurpers dog, regardless of what Varys or Ser Barristan claimed.

-

It had been a mistake to go on with her day as she had planned. She had spent the entire day letting her anger and paranoia fester. Every petitioner she saw had reminded her that soon they would not be petitioning her but her nephew when he stole everything from her. She had been crueler then usual and she knew that some of the decisions she had made were the wrong ones, due solely to her anger and resentment she harbored towards her nephew. 

Daenerys had never been a heavy drinker, but tonight she was one. She was already on her third bottle of wine and she would likely consume even more. She wanted to forget her doubts and worries, forget that her nephew even existed. Forget that she knew he was a Targaryen and not a pretender. 

Daario had come calling to take her to bed tonight but Daenerys had sent him away, she needed some time to process all of this on her own. She wished Lord Varys had told her this news privately. She could have not allowed it to be shared, to let it stay a secret as long as her nephew did not press the issue. Varys was crafty though and had made sure she could not have stopped the spread of the lies of Jon Stark, of her nephew. She knew Varys wanted to have a backup plan in case he decided he did not like the world she was building, he would help her nephew usurp her. 

She sighed and stood up and looked out at the sunset there was a speck in the distance that she knew was Rhaegal. Rhaegal always knew when she needed him. He would always be there for her even when everyone else abandoned her for her nephew. He and his siblings would give her the seven kingdoms and crush her nephew if he tried to usurp her. 

When he landed, Daenerys immediately reached our and rubbed the smooth scales on his neck. “I’m not the last Targaryen,” she spoke softly her voice heavy and somewhat slurred from the wine. “For so long I believed that I was the only Targaryen, that I would be the last one.”

Rhaegal’s head twitched in her grip. “Lord Varys’s little birds claim that there is another. The Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch; Jon Stark, they claim that he died in a mutiny and seven days later walked out of the funeral pyre, alive and unburnt. Varys reasons that he is the son of Rhaegar and his Lady Lyanna. I have a nephew.”

Rhaegal violently jerked away from her, tearing the skin of her hand with his sharp scales due to how quickly he turned away. She hissed in pain but reached out her bleeding hand towards him once again and stroked under his chin. “It’s a lie of course. A ploy by Jon Stark to steal my birthright, he is not really my nephew. He can not be.” She took another sip of her wine. “Visenya died with Lyanna, the usurper is not her daughter, just a mummers dragon.” 

Rhaegal shook his head. “You disagree? You think Jon Stark is truly a Targaryen?” 

He nodded and she sighed. “I suppose you might be right, if I’m honest with myself I believe it too. It makes sense, I know Lady Lyanna was pregnant when Rhaegar left her and I want to have a family. I don’t want House Targaryen to die with me. In the House of the Undying I saw a blue rose growing on the wall where he was at the time. He has a connection to me through our shared blood.” She sighed once again and took another long drink of her wine. “I can not believe him to be a Targaryen, no matter how much I want too. If I acknowledge him as my kin then he can usurp me. It has to be a lie or else I’ll lose everything I’ve worked so hard to build.” 

She grabbed Rhaegal’s head in her hands. “I need to break the wheel, I need to be Queen to do that. I aspire for a world where all men are equal, where bastards are treated equally to trueborn sons. In order to make that world a reality I would have to give my throne to Jon Targaryen or else I am nothing but a hypocrite. They would still choose him over me because he is a man. I can not make that world a reality by giving him the throne so I must deny that he is my kin. It is the only choice.” 

Rhaegal pulled his head out of her hands, gently this time and shook his head once again. “You really think I should accept him as my kin and risk my throne? Risk everything I’ve worked so hard for?” 

Rhaegal nodded and Daenerys couldn’t contain her anger at him. Was he too betraying her for this usurper? “Why?” She raged. “Why should he get what is mine by right? Is all my suffering for naught? What has he suffered for the throne that gives him right to it?” 

Rhaegal looked at her and cocked his head as if he was asking if she was stupid. “I suppose he has suffered, he died after all if Varys is telling the truth. Perhaps he does deserve it but what about me, what about my suffering? I’ve strived so hard for so long to build the perfect world and he can take it all away from me.” 

Rhaegal shook his head once more. “You don’t think he’ll take it from me?” He nodded. “They judge me for being the Mad King’s daughter but he’s the one who inherited the madness. He believes in fairy tales and an army of dead men. Yet, they would all flock to him as a Stark and be proud to call him their King.” Rhaegal looked almost gleeful at the thought of it even as she and once again Daenerys felt a pang of betrayal that she forced herself to shut out. 

She scoffed and stood there silent for a while, absentmindedly stroking Rhaegal’s scales until the sky was black. “I’m scared Rhaegal,” She confessed in a faint whisper. “What if he is not mad? What if there really is an army of the dead? Dragons were a myth and yet now you exist. Death was permanent but then my nephew proved that false as well. Do you think it’s possible that the army of the dead and the Others are truly as real as he claims?”

Rhaegal rapidly nodded his head. “You always seem to know things you should not be able to know and you have yet to lead me wrong so I’m inclined to believe you. What do I do about Jon Targaryen now that I know that? I won’t give him my throne.” 

Rhaegal nuzzled his head into her chest. “You think I should offer him a place by my side?” He nodded. “You think he will bend the knee to me? Not try to steal my throne?” 

Rhaegal hesitated for a moment but then nodded once more. “I don’t know Jon Targaryen or trust him but I do trust your judgment Rhaegal, and if you vouch for him then I will trust you and welcome him by my side. If he bends the knee. I thought you would be the only family I ever had, my only children. House Targaryen was going to die with me and now it will live on, I’m no longer alone.” 

Rhaegal turned away seemingly embarrassed by her praise. She pulled him back to look at her kissed Rhaegal gently on the snout. “I’m so glad to have you as my confidant, you’re the only one I can trust to stay with me no matter what and not betray me for anyone else- not my nephew if he tries to usurp me.” She sighed. “I have to go now, I have to call a council meeting now before I lose my nerve, before I allow myself to doubt or get insecure again. 

She pulled away from him and walked back inside feeling his heavy gaze on her as she left him there. She stepped out of her room and was immediately greeted by Jorah who had been guarding her room as he had been assigned to do. 

He saw the tear stains on her cheeks and was immediately by her, alert, and clearly concerned. “Are you all right, Khaleesi?” He asked and grabbed at her hand that still had blood stains on it from when she cut it on Rhaegal’s scales. 

She forced down all her emotional indecision towards Jorah, there was a time to doubt him, to worry about letting him too close to her. She had to do this. She pulled away from him and closed off all of her emotions. “I’m fine. Send word that I am calling an emergency council meeting right now, I want them all in the solar within an hour.” 

Jorah looked reluctant but he bowed low. “As you wish Khaleesi.” He then turned and strode down the hall to talk to other guards and order them to do as she bidded and fetch her council members. 

She settled herself in the solar and waited for the rest of them to arrive. She was really doing this, there would be no going back after she claimed her nephew as hers. She might lose everything but he was family and she had to stand with him. If the threat was as real as he claimed then she must be prepared for it. They had to be ready to wage war with the Others and the army of the dead. 

They gathered much quicker than she had expected when she called the council, this morning it had been a slow slog for Varys to gather them but when she called the council they had all rushed to attend it. Good that they knew not to make their queen wait. Once the last person, Ser Barristan had limped in and settled in their seat Daenerys stood up and addressed them all. 

“Jon Stark is a Targaryen, there is no denying that he is the natural son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. Prince Jon likely did indeed come back from the dead.” Daenerys closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “It is likely that the Prince’s tales of the Others and the army of the dead that we previously thought to just be his excuse to bring the wildlings south of the wall is in fact the truth.”

She opened her eyes again and was surprised by the lack of protest from her council, she supposed that all of them except her had already accepted this as truth. The evidence was stacked in favor of Jon being a Targaryen she supposed. It was only her fear that kept her from accepting it herself. 

“Lord Tyrion, you brought a Red Priestess to Meereen, bring her to me. I need to speak with her and find out if resurrection from the dead is truly one of their capabilities or if this is just a lie spun by someone who wants my throne.” Tyrion nodded in agreement and gave his consent to his task. 

“I need you all to spend significant time researching the Others and ways of defeating them. Find out how they can be killed and what their weaknesses are. Find out how they were defeated eons ago. If there is any chance that they are real then we must be prepared for the worst.” 

“Lord Varys, I want to be updated on everything you hear about Prince Jon Targaryen, no matter how small or how many sources or how credible they are, report it.” 

“Your Grace, I have more news on him now,” Varys interrupted her. 

Already? In one day what had he learned? “Enlighten us.” She commanded. 

“Jon Stark,” He began. 

“Prince Jon Targaryen,” Daenerys corrected him with a scowl. “To call him a Stark would suggest that House Targaryen is beneath the Starks, I hope that was not your intent.” 

“Apologies, Your Grace, I meant no disrespect.” Daenerys waved her hand accepting his apology and telling him to get on with it. “Prince Jon Targaryen has rallied the wildlings or as they call themselves, The Free Folk to his cause. They have crowned Jon Targaryen as their King and will war with him to claim the Iron Throne. Prince Jon claimed that they needed to unite the realm in order to defeat the Others and the army of the dead and they all swore to put him on the throne to do that.” 

“Yes very Free,” Tyrion muttered. “They bow down and call a man their king. Forever free folk.” Tyrion muttered lifting his glass in a mock toast. Daenerys wanted to chastise him, it was the same way the former slaves called themselves the free men when they called her a Queen. They had the freedom to choose their own leader not to lead themselves.

Daenerys closed her eyes and forced herself to take deep breaths. Rhaegal had said he would not usurp her, that he would bend the knee to her. He was gathering an army to defeat the Others not to steal her throne, or maybe to claim the North back for the Starks, she would name him her warden. She could not doubt herself, she had made her decision and she would stand by it. She would not look back. If I look back I am gone. 

“How many men does he have?” Ser Barristan asked. 

“Most of the wildlings he brought past the wall are children or crippled. The woman fight in the wildlings army and even then among the 10,000 he saved, maybe 3,000 are capable of fighting in his army. The wildlings are undisciplined and will struggle to match in a formation so it is likely that their might will be closer to that of a force of 2,000 men if that. They will pose little threat to most disciplined knights. Although he does have a giant according to my little birds.” 

“Surely he can not expect to take the seven kingdoms with so little men?” Tyrion pondered between drinks. “Jon Sno-Targaryen is no fool, or at least he wasn’t one.” 

Varys nodded. “He faced worst odds when he was Lord Commander. Regardless, I suspect that he will reach out to all the Northern Lords and ask for their aid, if he hasn’t already. I can only speculate on how well received he would be.” 

Ser Barristan turned to her. “Your Grace, what do we do with Prince Jon Targaryen? Is he our ally or an enemy? Should we send him men to aid him or…” He trailed off not wanting to contemplate aiding their enemies or killing Rhaegar’s son. 

“He is not our enemy and I hope he is an ally. He is kin and I will not fight him unless we have too. I plan on sending an envoy to him, to bring him to Meereen and offer him a place on my council and by my side. If he will bend the knee.” Daenerys swore knowing there was no going back on this now. “If he is telling the truth about the Others then he is an extremely valuable ally and his Free Folk are more valuable than most men due to their experience with the enemy.” 

“What changed your mind, Your Grace?” Tyrion asked the question that Daenerys was sure all of them wanted to but only he, as drunk as he was, had the courage to. “You were so dead set on him being an imposter this morning, and a liar trying to steal your birthright. What changed?”

Daenerys saw no harm in answering honestly and knew she had to give a real reason to avoid them thinking she was bipolar and going mad. “Rhaegal persuaded me otherwise. He believes that Prince Jon is truly a Targaryen and that his tales of the Others are indeed true.” 

It was a testament to how oddly Rhaegal had been behaving lately, how intelligent he had acted that no one had anything to say about her explanation although Varys tutted as if he had known it all along. Everyone knew Rhaegal was different by now, nothing would surprise any of them about his actions at this point. They all knew that Rhaegal behaved more like a human than a dragon lately. 

“Who do you plan on sending as an envoy?” Ser Barristan asked in the lull of the conversation. 

Daenerys smirked. She knew just the man, the one person who would stay loyal to her and not turn to her nephew no matter what. A man from the North who knew it’s lands and customs. A man who had no purpose in Meereen and she could afford to lose and even benefit from his leaving for a time. Yes, he would be the perfect choice.

-

“You asked to see me, Your Grace?” Jorah asked as he entered her chambers. She had chosen to meet him here instead of her throne room, wanting to ask this of him as Daenerys, the Khaleesi not the distant Queen who had banished him and stripped him of his name. He needed to remember why he was loyal to her and not turn aside when she sent him home. 

It was for that reason that she had chosen such a scandalous dress that teased so much skin. She was not a whore who sold her body for a crown but she was not afraid of using her beauty to get what she wants. It wasn’t her preferred method of assuring loyalty but she knew Jorah was only with her because he loved her and she needed him to remember why when she sent him away. She needed to be assured he wouldn’t be swayed from her side because Prince Jon was from the North.

“The usurper pardoned you for spying on me, gave you leave to return to Westeros whenever you choose to do so. Am I wrong?” She asked behind a blank mask betraying no emotions. 

“He did Khaleesi,” Jorah admitted seemingly defeated. 

“You will return to Westeros-” She began to declare but was cut off by Jorah’s begging. 

“Please Khaleesi,” He pleaded, falling to his knees before her. “Do not send me away again, I am loyal to you. Only to you.” 

Daenerys took a step back and knelt down by his side. “I am not banishing you again,” She spoke softly in an attempt to comfort him, to remind him of the good and kind Queen she was once again since he had not seen it lately from her. “I am sending you to Westeros as my envoy.”

She rose to her feet and after a moment Ser Jorah did as well. She turned away from him and gazed out the balcony. “I have a nephew in Westeros.” 

“Khaleesi?” Jorah asked in confusion. 

“There is another Targaryen, the son of my brother Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark. He went by another name until recently, Jon Snow. He was the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. He was believed to be the bastard of Eddard Stark who hid his sister’s child to save their life. He too is unburnt, he walked out of his own funeral pyre alive and unburnt after he was killed in a mutiny at Castle Black.” 

Jorah looked at her in complete shock and disbelief. “That’s impossible.” He muttered. 

Daenerys smiled. “He is a Targaryen, nothing is impossible for us.” 

Jorah nodded mutely knowing her well enough not to argue with her about this by now. 

“I am sending you to Castle Black to treat with my nephew. Bring the Prince back to Meereen with you, offer him a place on my council, and by my side if he bends the knee. Find out if there is any truth to his claims of the Others and The Army of The Dead. Find out all he knows and what he wants and then bring him to me.”

“I will Khaleesi,” Jorah promised. 

“Good.” She turned away from him. “You leave tonight.” 

Jorah looked somewhat upset but nodded anyways. “As you wish, Khaleesi.” 

He bowed low and then walked out of her chambers to prepare for his journey across the Narrow Sea and home to Westeros. 

Daenerys watched him go sadly. She had missed her brave old bear and despite her conflicting feelings about him, she would miss him once again. But she could not have him by her side in Meereen with his past, he made the people of Meereen distrustful towards her and that was not something she could have with the city in such a fragile state. He had to leave and this was a golden opportunity to send someone loyal to bring her nephew to her side. He would bend the knee and she would rule with him by her side. Her family and house would live on beyond her, maybe he would even ride one of her dragons, perhaps Viserion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jorah had to be punished in some way for his refusal to stay away, as she says herself before revealing he has Greyscale. I'm not doing the meaningless Greyscale Jorah plot that only served as a plot device to make Daenerys feel somewhat guilty for burning the Tarlys. Stripping him of all his lands and titles lets him stay with her as he wants and serve her but is still a punishment that will dissuade those who would refuse to listen to her commands. 
> 
> Daario being knighted was to show how she rewards those who are loyal to her beyond what is expected of them. Daario might not care about the title but many others will and making that reward attainable inspires loyalty. 
> 
> The scene with a former slave sold by Ser Jorah confronting him and Daenerys about that was something I always thought would happen in the show but the Greyscale plot robbed us of that. We know Jorah sold slaves, and the most likely destination for slaves he sold would likely be Slavers Bay. The odds that no one he sold was there and remembered him is infinitesimally small. 
> 
> Jorah's character never really develops in the show or the books. I like him just fine but him being fiercely loyal to Daenerys and breaking the chains off of slaves because of his love for her is not character development. He sold them in the first place because of love. Until he finds a motivation other than love of a woman that inspires his actions, and actively works against the desires of his love how much can he really develop? The object of his fixation changed not him. Daenerys needed to realize that and reconcile that he was also the man who had sold people into slavery, not just her loyal protector. 
> 
> We never get an exact currency system for Essos but we know a seasoned slave sailor (A valuable commodity) sells for 500-900 pieces of silver. If we use the more expensive of the Westerosi silver coins that is 30 Moons to one Gold Dragon. That's essentially the price of five horses based on the conversion rates we see in the books and chump change to the rich. That's a seasoned slave with a valuable trade, not an untrained nobody. 
> 
> Daenerys is entirely about social injustice. Her entire break the wheel spiel is about making sure that the weak have power and are treated right. It's very likely her agenda would include counting bastards fairly. She doesn't want anyone to be oppressed and she doesn't blame people for who their parents are and likely if they were married or not. 
> 
> Part of Daenerys wants a family and part of her wants the throne. She's going to be torn between the two sides initially when she hears of Jon's existence. She's going to be paranoid that he'll steal her power but she'll also desperately want a family of her own and for her house to outlast her. She's going to be insecure and paranoid at first and likely would have remained that way for awhile still without her conversing with Rhaegal who she trusts entirely after he had saved her and hunted the Harpies, etc. Even when hearing that Jon now has an army, she's going to trust Rhaegal's judgment because he's shown that he knows things he shouldn't before and he has yet to steer her wrong. Once she's convinced that Jon will not usurp her she's obviously going to be ecstatic to have a family again. 
> 
> People are going to connect the dots and realize if Jon can not stay dead then the Others could also theoretically bring back the dead. Jon is living proof that the army of the dead could exist and he won't be afraid to flaunt his resurrection to convince people of that fact. 
> 
> I'm curious as to who you guys think will be the first person to discover (Not be told) that Jon is a warg of Rhaegal. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, make sure to review and leave kudos if you enjoyed this chapter and subscribe so you don't miss any future updates. On Tuesday we have a really short chapter told from Sansa's perspective.


	16. Sansa II

**This is going to be a bit long and I'll probably ramble a lot but there are apparently some issues I need to address since everyone took offense at Daario and Daenerys fucking in one scene. There might wind up being minor spoilers in here so if you want to skip feel free just don't comment another angry comment about why isn't Jon fucking Val thing without reading this.**

**This is a real comment I got from a guest reviewer on AO3 "I was slowly catching up this story and start liking it quite a bit. Then you suddenly drop your pants and take a shit on my face. Was this whole story just an elaborate hoax to shove your Daario shit on Jonerys people's faces? Scummy troll."**

**Daario and Daenerys are fucking in cannon and that's not something that I can change instantly. I was completely unaware that putting something other than Jon/Dany in a Jonerys story for even one fucking scene was a criminal offense. For christ's sake, she doesn't even know that Jon exists at this point in the story. Daenerys doesn't have real feelings for him as a person, she could leave and feel nothing as she does in canon. She is with him because he represents her having a choice after being sold into two marriages. He is someone she can be with entirely because she wants to and not because she has to.**

**I find tagging the story as Daenerys/Daario as disingenuous towards the few people who might actually be looking for that pairing. I didn't tag it Daenerys/Daario or give people warning because it's literally only one scene in total in the entirety of this story where they actually are together. There is no love triangle here or serious feelings filled relationship, it's just a hookup for sex that is only even kind of shown in one chapter. I'm not going to tag every one night stand or temporary fling in the story or else I'd have over one hundred relationship tags solely based on all the whores Tyrion beds. Only relationships actually significant to the plot of the story are tagged. Rhaegar/Lyanna is relevant to the entire concept of the story and will constantly be referenced so they are tagged. Daario is not a major player. I won't apologize for not warning people beforehand that Daario and Daenerys are fucking, that should be implied based on the starting point of the story and in chapter six I did reference that she missed having Daario warming her bed.**

**Jon is not the type to fuck around in cannon. The only person he hooks up with in the books cannon is Ygritte, who he is with for the sake of his cover and he falls in love with her along the way. (Love is a question there or if it's just a variant of Stockholm syndrome. She literally said fuck me or you're still a crow and you'll die) He does not go around fucking all the Free Folk while he is with them. He is solely a one women person, that's not a bad thing nor does it make him a simp. In the show, you have Ygritte and Daenerys as the only people he fucks. Both of whom he doesn't fuck at first meeting or screw around before he gets together with them. Jon even in Winterfell refused to go to a brothel and screw some whore. He might get together with Val in the books but he's not gonna be doing it for a quick fuck on the side (Or his death will completely warp him like it did Catelyn). There is no evidence in the cannon material that he is at all like that. He is not the type of person for a friends with benefits relationship, Daenerys is in canon absolutely that person considering she literally has one. I'm not justifying her relationship with Daario or condemning it simply pointing out that it exists and just because Jonerys is the endgame, does not mean that they have to have the same exact prior relationship experiences.**

**Also need I remind you that Jon's parents are the most lovesick fools in the entire series. (Robb is arguably up there as well but his was equally duty and love). It's entirely reasonable for him to have his eyes set on one person and not go fucking around with others because he only has eyes for the one that he loves. He won't ever be as bad as Rhaegar or Lyanna in that he'll let thousands die because he loves Daenerys but his love for her keeping him from seeking another is logical.**

**Even if he wasn't like he is in cannon, or like his parents, he still wouldn't be fucking around for a multitude of reasons. First and foremost sleeping with someone requires that you trust them at least a little. Jon was just murdered by the Night's Watch, men that he trusted, why would he climb in bed with anyone right now? He has serious trust issues and that's kind of a mandatory part of any relationship. Even a purely physical one he's still vulnerable in during the act. The only people Jon kind of trusts right now are Daenerys (Mostly due to the fact that he's Rhaegal), Tormund, and maybe Davos or Arya if he knew where she was. He's very cautious after his resurrection and hesitant to trust anyone because he was just murdered. Maybe if you died you'd say fuck it I want to get laid as much as I can before I die again but I personally think it's more logical to try to do everything to avoid being betrayed again and that includes sex where he is vulnerable.**

**Additionally, Jon being a playboy with a harem or even one side-fuck is completely moronic from a political standpoint. The North is extremely fickle in cannon, and they distrust Targaryens. He needs them to see him as Ned Stark's son, not Rhaegar's. They will support Jon not because he's a Targaryen but a Stark. To do that he has to act like the honorable Ned Stark in ways that don't hurt his campaign. Being celibate until marriage is one way of doing that. He'll refer to Ned as his father when speaking to people whether he believes it or not, he'll declare himself as of houses Stark and Targaryen, keep the non-Targaryen name of Jon because the small things let them believe that he is still a Northern Stark and not a southern Targaryen or his real fathers son but instead the son of the man they all followed.**

**Rob Stark lost the North because he couldn't keep it in his pants and knocked up a girl breaking his betrothal. If Jon was to go around fucking whoever he pleased then the Lords would fear that he is like Robb and accuse him of thinking with his cock. If he were to knock someone up with a bastard (Which is a fear of Jon's as we all know) then he would either have to marry them (Like Robb), deny any responsibility and shame the woman (Not like his honorable father but how the North thinks of Rhaegar), or force the woman to drink moon tea, killing the babe and possibly destroying the mother's ability to have children. Or even worse he lets the child be born and based on the rules he and Daenerys want to establish where bastards are treated equally to trueborns, they would be the rightful heir to the throne and cripples his options in a marriage alliance. Jon is not that selfish and desperate for a fuck to risk everything on it.**

**Daenerys does not consider the bastard thing because she both thinks she's barren and also as a woman she is the one who has a choice on if the bastard is born or not. Jon would not be the one who gets to make that choice on if the child dies. If Daenerys thought she was actually able to have children then she wouldn't be sleeping around so much either. She is not pregnant with Daario's child and Jon won't be raising that child as his heir.**

**If he really needed to get laid, he would not be doing it with Val as that's even more politically suicidal than just a random whore would be. To the Northerners the wildlings are the enemy, they have been for years. Even when they realize why Jon let them beyond the wall they won't exactly like each other. Him fucking a wildling is the quickest was possible to lose the support of the northern lords, and become just a wildling lover. It's possible he loses them even faster than he would by bending the knee to Daenerys for her aid against the Others. Jon is not stupid and led around by his cock like everyone here seems to want him to be. That is not a bad thing.**

**Jon has tunnel vision on defeating the others, that's his end goal and he's not going to make decisions that work against that endgame. He knows that he needs Daenerys and her dragons, yet, he also needs the North to fight for him and he can't have that if he bends the knee. So marriage is the only logical solution that lets him retain power to keep the North in line and gets him Daenerys's aid. He has feelings for her, yes, but he's not motivated solely by those feelings. He won't jeopardize the possibility of that for a quick fuck, and if he does go around fucking whoever then why wouldn't Daenerys continue to do the same? He knows that right now she is under no obligation to not fuck who she wants as much as he might wish she'd stop. If she persisted in sleeping with Daario after they were betrothed then would he maybe fuck around? Perhaps but Jon is rational and knows he has no say in who she sleeps with right now and doesn't take it personally because again at this point she does not know that Jon even exists. He wants a real relationship with her and not just a political marriage.**

**Jon is not weak and submissive to Dany by not fucking around, she won't trample over him and be the one in control in their eventual relationship. Him being in love with her, and loyal to her does not make him a simp nor is that typically a bad thing. They will be equals in their relationship. He won't be like his father and let his love for her distract him from his responsibilities. Him not being a complete playboy does not make him a simp, please wait until he's actually in a relationship to judge their dynamic.**

**Also, kind of a spoiler but we see in cannon with wargs that the more time you spend as an animal the more you become like them as well as other things that cause the same effect that are too spoilery to mention here.. Most animals don't have harems but one mate, wolves who Jon was a warg of for a long time being the most prominent example. Dragons fall under the same umbrella in this. Just saying, it's totally reasonable for Jon to not go fucking around with every attractive woman he meets,**

**As for why she sent Ser Jorah to treat with Jon since apparently I didn't express that clearly; she's paranoid of her losing the allegiance of whoever she sends to him. She needs him to bend the knee to her, not for them to decide he's a better ruler. Jorah is also someone she can't have in Meereen with his history. He was pardoned in Westeros by the Baratheon King so legally they can't do anything to him if she sends him there and if Jon executes her messenger then he's obviously not an ally. It's not like she could send Tyrion or Ser Barristan even if she trusted them to do so as they are considered outlaws by the Baratheon King. Who else could she send but Jorah? Missandei? Daario? There is no good option here. Jorah is the most expendable and unconditionally loyal, so to her, he makes the most sense as an envoy to represent her interests. His interactions with people in the North will be far from good but he is the ideal choice to use as an ambassador who will represent her interests alone.**

**Knighting Daario was meant to be a bad decision to show that Daenerys doesn't understand how Westerosi customs work. She sees a knight as an empty title that is given as a reward to men when she hears of the knights of Westeros doing horrible things. She wasn't raised to see a knight as anything special and the context is limited for her. Some are good like Ser Barristan but most the ones she knows by name are the ones who have done awful things since bad deeds are more commonly shared than good ones (Especially with Viserys as he main source). She knows of the Kingslayer being labeled a knight, Ser Gregor who raped her good-sister and killed her niece and nephew. She doesn't have many tales of yore about good knights, only evil ones. She looks at the title of knight as something she can give out to gain men's loyalty without actually losing anything. Ser Barristan was absolutely upset with her decision even if the scene wasn't shown in this chapter.**

**A few people pointed out that giving bastards a place in the line of succession is nearly impossible logistically and yes, it nearly is but so is ending slavery in a single day yet Daenerys does that either way. She is an idealist who wants to remake the world and is often times ignorant of who gets trampled along the way. Realistically, what this will only serve to do is make people more hesitant to claim their bastards as their own since otherwise they have no claim to the lands but she still wants to make a better world for the bastards as impractical as it might be. Most of her goals are impractical at best and more realistically impossible but she doesn't believe in the word impossible and thinks she can make anything happen.**

**If you don't like it, then you don't have to fucking read it. It's not that hard of a concept to understand. If you want to write a story based on this concept where Jon fucks around with everyone he sees then knock yourself out but don't bash senselessly because the story doesn't move exactly as you want it too.**

**I hope that cleared everything up, now onto the chapter that might be shorter than the author's notes. Oh and also for the record I'm a male. I'm flattered that you think so highly of my ability to understand the female mind though.**

* * *

Sansa Stark was plotting to light Jon Snow on fire. Okay, that sounded bad but she had no choice in the matter. Her brother or well cousin she supposed was refusing to take action until the choosing was done and she knew that would be for a while still. The Boltons could not be allowed to hold Winterfell any longer. She would not allow it. Winter would come for them. Ramsay Snow would get all that he deserved.

Sansa had tried playing nice with Jon before and it hadn't worked so now she had to take drastic measures now. She had asked him multiple times and he had refused to take action. She had tried to guilt trip into acting and he had shut her down, time and time again.

When Sansa had first spoken to him about her life and tried to play the scared weak girl that she had been to manipulate him into doing something. He had screamed at her and raged about her manipulating him but Sansa had thought she had gotten through to him. Sansa had skipped the choosing that night not wanting to see Jon again in his current state of ire.

Jon had as well, going to the Wildling camp south of the wall with more urgency than he ever had before. He practically sprinted through the snow and out the gate to go visit with the Wildlings. Sansa had hoped that he was going to recruit the Wildlings to their side, that something she had said had ignited a spark in him. A spark to fight.

She had been wrong. Jon had still done nothing to prepare to march south on the Boltons. He still refused to act. He refused to wear the Targaryen cloak she had made him, apparently ashamed of his heritage, and refused to use the power being a Targaryen- even a bastard one gave him.

If Jon would not act then Sansa would force him to do so. He wanted to stay at the wall until the next Lord Commander was chosen and Sansa would speed the process up. If Jon had just listened to her and worn the Targaryen cloak and a crown of fire like she had wanted then Davos would have already been chosen and they could have left this horrible place already.

Ser Davos was doing an incredible job rallying supporters on his own. After he had been sworn into the Night's Watch, his own speeches when he was nominated had persuaded a good portion of the men to vote for him. Jon could have spoken on his behalf again or reminded the Targaryen loyalists or at the very least Baratheon haters that made up over half of the watch, who he was and Davos might already be Lord Commander and they would be on the march to Winterfell.

If Jon wasn't going to remind people that he was the King and a Targaryen then Sansa would do it for him. All she had to do was light him on fire, preferably during the choosing so it would be the first thing on their mind when they voted.

So Sansa had doused the black cloak and vest of the Night's Watch that Jon always wore to the choosing in oil when he went to the wildlings camp today. All it would take is for his cloak to brush against a candle or torch and the whole thing would be set ablaze. His clothes would burn away but he would still stand there unburnt and unharmed. Everyone who doubted the tales of his resurrection and Targaryen heritage would be forced to confront the truth.

Jon would likely figure out what she had done, and he might hate her but he would be forced into moving against the Boltons immediately. She would have her revenge and if Jon hated her, well then she could live with that as long as she got her revenge.

It was the eighteenth night of the Choosing now, and Sansa would be enacting her scheme tonight. Jon took his usual seat by her side without saying a word. Brienne sat to her left and Podrick to her left. They had their table entirely to themselves as they were guests and separate from the proceedings so they were left on their own. That made it easier for Sansa to burn Jon without risking anyone getting hurt as collateral damage besides herself.

Ser Denys rose to his feet to start the proceedings and the room fell silent, all eyes fixed on him. "We are gathered here today for the eighteenth night of the Choosing for the 999th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. There are 612 brothers gathered here today for the choosing. For a new Lord Commander to be elected, they will need to receive 409 votes to meet the minimum two-thirds election requirement. If no Lord Commander is chosen today then we will adjourn for the day and meet again tomorrow. If you submit your name to the choosing and fail to garner at least seven votes to meet the minimum one percent requirement then you will be barred from being nominated until we meet to decide the one-thousandth Lord Commander. We will now open the floor to any candidates who would like to add a name to the choosing or say anything in a candidate's favor." Ser Denys glared at Jon at the end of that statement as he had every other night of the Choosing since that first night, to make sure that he knew he meant only sworn brothers this time.

While Jon was distracted and no eyes were looking in her direction, Sansa quietly and discreetly inched the candle in the center of the table closer to the edge so it would be qued to fall onto Jon's vest when it was time.

Ser Wynton Stout stood to his feet first. "I would like to remove my name from the choosing in deference to Ser Davos Seaworth." He wasn't a major candidate but any extra support for Ser Davos got him closer to induction. "Ser Davos has recent experience playing politics that give him an edge in gaining us allies. I do not have that, it's been sixty years since I joined the Night's Watch. Ser Davos was hand to a king only a few moons ago. We need allies and he is our best chance for that. I'm putting my support behind Ser Davos and I encourage you all do the same."

Next to speak was Jarmen Buckwell. "I am removing my name from the choosing in favor of supporting Ser Denner Frostfinger. He is the only man willing to do whatever is necessary to ensure our survival."

A few other men spoke reaffirming their own desire to campaign and once the room was silent and Ser Denys Mallister had stood up to proceed onto the voting. This was Sansa's time to enact her plan. She pulled hard on the tablecloth and the candle fell onto Jon's vest.

As Sansa had planned, the oil quickly caught flame and his clothes were alight. Jon immediately flung himself out of the chair and away from everyone as she had expected he would. He knew he was unburnt and Jon was too selfless to risk anyone other then himself catching fire or getting burnt.

He stood there motionless with a grimace as his clothes were rendered into naught but ashes as the flames tickled at his skin. Every eye in the hall was fixed on Jon as they gazed at the proof of his kingship, the proof of his Targaryen heritage on display for all to see.

Ser Davos was the first person to drop to his knee before the King and Sansa smiled. Him going first would remind people who they should support, who their King wanted as Lord Commander of The Night's Watch.

Then another person, if Sansa was correct, Ser Lyman Blackbar whose house had fought on the Targaryen's side in Robert's Rebellion and was sent to the wall as atonement for his crimes. He bent the knee to Jon with a whispered "My King."

Then Ser Jarmen Buckwell who had only just thrown his support behind Ser Denner Frostfinger also bent the knee to Jon. Another Targaryen loyalist who had fought alongside Jon's father. She doubted he would be pushing his support onto a man who stood by as his King was murdered anymore.

He was not the only one but he was first, Jon did not have everyone bowing before him in the end but he had at least half the room and dare Sansa say it but two-thirds of the men clearly were choosing to support Jon as King and hopefully his opinion of Lord Commander. At the very least Sansa knew that Frostfinger had no chance at Lord Commander after that showing by Jon, since no one would risk the Dragon's wrath by voting for a bystander in his murder anymore.

Jon turned to Sansa with a fire in his eyes. He was clearly upset about what she had done- and Sansa had no delusions that he didn't figure out her involvement. "A word, dear _cousin."_ He spat at her with more venom then she had ever heard from Jon but he did not raise his voice at all.

 _Good._ Sansa thought to herself silently even as she meekly followed Jon out of the room with her head bowed, and Brienne trudging along beside her. _Let them all fear the Dragon's wrath. Let them fear displeasing their King._

As Sansa was leaving she heard Jarmen Buckwell speak. "I misspoke earlier, I would like to support the nomination of Ser Davos Seaworth as the next Lord Commander."

Another voice Sansa did not recognize stood next. "I am withdrawing my name from the choosing in favor of supporting the candidacy of Ser Davos."

Sansa grinned. Her plan had worked perfectly to her plan. Ser Davos would be elected tonight and Jon would finally be able to turn his focus to taking the North back from the Boltons.

"Stay here," Sansa told Brienne as Jon stomped through the door to his chambers. "Jon won't hurt me." Sansa admittedly wasn't sure that was the truth right now but she knew if Brienne was there then he might blame her for this and it was Sansa's crime alone.

"Are you sure, my lady?" Brienne asked concerned with a hand on her sword.

Sansa just nodded and closed the door behind her as she entered Jon's room behind him. As soon as the latch clicked Jon was in her face.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" He roared at her. "Were you trying to kill me?"

Sansa sniffed and held her head up. "Of course not, we both know that fire can not kill you. I was helping you."

"How does lighting me on fire help me?" He demanded as he took a step towards her.

For a moment in his anger, Sansa thought Jon would strike her as Ramsay would. That cold rage in his eyes looked so familiar. Sansa shivered but pushed those thoughts aside to answer Jon, now was not the time for this. She would have her revenge soon. "You saw everyone bowing down to you at the choosing. They will now support your candidate, Ser Davos for Lord Commander and not the one who watched you die. They fear you now and will obey because of it."

Rather than calm Jon with her reasoning it only made him more upset. "Did it ever occur to you to talk to me? To ask me about your plan?" He demanded. Sansa had considered it but knew he would refuse her offer like he had refused to wear the crown of fire and the Targaryen cloak she had made him. So she took the decision out of his hands.

Jon was not finished. "Did it ever occur to you that I didn't want Ser Davos as Lord Commander? That I did not want the choosing to end now?"

Sansa froze. That had not occurred to her, was he scared of the Boltons? Was he pushing off reclaiming their home because he was scared of dying again? Or was there something else. She voiced her thoughts aloud. "Why? Are you afraid to move against the Boltons? Of death?" _Again._

Jon scowled. "I needed my heritage to stay secret. Until the choosing ends Castle Black is on lockdown. No ravens are allowed to leave. I did not want to fight the Lannisters as well and now when we try to reclaim the North we'll also have to face the combined might of the Lannister and Bolton armies trying to crush the Targaryen usurper."

Sansa was confused. His logic made some sense but it was inevitable either way. Waiting until the choosing ended just pushed it back not away. Did he want people to forget he was a Targaryen? Surely he wasn't that naive to think they would forget that. "That is inevitable, people aren't going to just forget you walking out of the funeral pyre."

Jon nodded and his face softened slightly. "I didn't want them to forget. I wanted to stall. I had been sending the Free Folk to raid the keeps of the nearest northern houses. They think I am dead, they would assume the Free Folk were acting independent of my influence and gather all the Northern Houses to come and exterminate their common enemy. We would come out to greet them with the Direwolf banners of House Stark and have the Boltons surrounded by men who hate them on all sides. They would be forced to make a choice instead of being neutral in the conflict. Your foolishness ruined that plan and now we will likely all die against the Lannister and Bolton combined forces."

Sansa paused. It was actually quite a good plan, one that she had ruined with her own impatience. She had been too focused on revenge and it might have cost them everything. No, he had ruined it by not sharing it with her. She would have listened if he had told her, she wouldn't have been so stupid if she had known. "My foolishness?" Sansa questioned, defensive. "If you had thought to trust me then I would not have acted. This one is just as much on you, dear brother."

Jon evidently did not like her response. "How could I ever trust you when you don't trust me? I was murdered by men I trusted, cousin. My brothers." He roared. "The only time you tell me anything about your life is when you are trying to manipulate me. You've always treated me like shit and now I'm just someone for you to use in order to gain power. I don't know why or if you killed Joffrey, how you escaped so easily or why you married a fucking Bolton. Why on earth would I ever trust you?"

Sansa was enraged, how dare he suggest that she had chosen to be married to Ramsay. "What would you like to hear Jon!" She spat. "How Littlefinger kidnapped me, how I was almost murdered by my aunt, and then he murdered my aunt and sold me to Ramsay?" She shouted back. "How Ramsay beat me and raped me while making Theon watch helplessly? How he branded his name on my skin? How I…" _No, she couldn't tell him that part. That was her secret that she would never share with anyone, ever._

Jon's expression softened. "Yes, sister. I want to be there for you, but I can't if you don't trust me. I can't trust someone I don't know." He rubbed the crescent scar over his heart. "Not again."

Sansa frowned and felt somewhat guilty. She would let him in and let him know part of her life. He was the only family she had left now. "At Joffrey's wedding-" Jon cut her off with a raised hand.

"I want you to share stuff with me but now is not the time." He scowled again. "Your scheme worked, Ser Davos will be elected as Lord Commander tonight. We have to move now before the news of my resurrection spreads." He looked over at the fire roaring in the hearth. "Start drafting letters to all the Lords of the Northern Houses requesting aid. I'll sign off on them as Jon Targaryen, the son of Lyanna Stark before you send them. I doubt many will choose to aid us but we need all the help we can get."

"How volatile are the Boltons tempers?" Jon asked seemingly out of the blue.

"Ramsay has anger issues. If he's upset then he's quite insane and sadistic. He has self-control issues as well." Sansa stopped and pondered over what she knew about Roose. "Roose is not at all like Ramsay. He is cold and calculating. He is the one who orchestrated the Red Wedding."

Jon nodded and moved back to the previous conversation as he finally dressed himself in the Targaryen cloak she had made for him. "While you're writing the letters, I'll be meeting with the Free Folk and informing them of the change in plans. We'll ride for the Dreadfort with our army at sunrise and be there within a moon's turn. We'll take the undermanned castle and make them come for us."

Sansa nodded mutely and took a seat at Jon's desk and set to writing out the letters he had requested. She did not look up as the door opened and closed again with a thud as Jon left. Sansa did not think that holding the Dreadfort was a wise place to defend from but at the very least if they did die she would have taken something from the Boltons first. Maybe, they would all die but at least she might have some measure of revenge first. It would never be enough revenge if they lost there but Sansa had learned her lesson and would not try to interfere. She would not be the one to screw up Jon's plan again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very poorly written, I won't pretend otherwise. I tried to rewrite it three times and it just wound up worse so it's whatever. There is only one scene here and it's poorly executed but this was one of the first things I knew I wanted to do with the story.
> 
> Sansa tries to force things and Jon learns that not trusting anyone can be just as dangerous as trusting them. He was betrayed because he didn't share his plans not because he did. Sansa had to learn that she needs to ask and try to work with someone rather than manipulating them. So Sansa lights Jon on fire and like with the Dothraki when Daenerys burnt the Khals they bend the knee and follow his command, or in this case recommendation of Davos as Lord Commander. Considering that a good portion of the watch is likely people who fought on behalf of the Targaryens in Robert's rebellion, it's totally logical that when they see the proof that Jon is a Targaryen for their own eyes rather than hear of it that they follow his commands. Sansa understood this and used it to manipulate circumstances to what she thought was their benefit. 
> 
> Next chapter, on Friday, we have the first chapter told from Myrcella's point of view since we have no POV characters in Kings Landing anymore and we get to deal with the fallout of Jon's heritage being revealed to all of the world, as well as both Margaery and Cersei's trials in what is probably the best chapter so far. 
> 
> Thanks for reading. Subscribe so you don't miss any future updates, leave Kudos if you enjoyed and comment if you have any valid non-complete bashing feedback.


	17. Myrcella I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News of Jon's heritage reaches the Capital. Margaery and Cersei's trials

This is delicious Myrcella.” Tommen moaned as he bit into one of the stuffed green peppers that Nymeria had prepared for them. “I can understand why you love this so much. We must get ourselves a Dornish chef here full-time.”

Myrcella nodded her agreement. “I definitely miss the Dornish delights. Nymeria isn’t the best cook in the world but she does well enough for until we get a proper Dornish cook.” 

“This isn’t the best?” Tommen exclaimed in delight. “I can hardly imagine any better!” 

Nymeria curtsied. “You flatter me, Your Grace.” 

“Your Grace,” Ser Loras Tyrell stood in the doorway waiting for the King to bid him admittance to join them. “The Queen-Mother Cersei has called for an emergency council meeting.”

Ser Loras was the newest member of the Kings Guard having joined with her father’s resignation. Good-Grandmum Olenna had suggested that he take a place on the guard to help Queen Margaery feel safe with someone she could trust protecting her. Just in case a trial of combat was needed. Tommen had jumped at her suggestion and ordered the new Lord Commander Ser Balon Swann to put him on the Kings guard. 

Tommen stood up and offered his hand to Myrcella. “Come sister, shall we go see what mother wants?” 

Myrcella took his hand and rose to her feet but shook her head. “I’m not a part of the council, Tommen.” 

Tommen frowned slightly. “Neither is mother but she will still be there. I insist that you join us.” 

Myrcella smiled. “In that case, I would be honored to attend a council meeting with you.” She bent down and kissed her husband on the cheek before linking her arm with Tommen’s and they followed Ser Loras out of the kitchen and to the council room. 

She wondered what it would be about. Would Tommen direct it? Would mother? Would Uncle Kevan? Was she allowed to say anything during the meeting? This would be an enlightening experience and a useful one if she was to be the lady of Casterly Rock one day.

When they entered the room it was clear that they had already started without her or Tommen. Mother was sitting at the head of the table when they entered the room with Ser Loras guarding the door behind them. 

“We should be sending all of our forces north.” Their mother demanded. She froze when she saw Tommen and Myrcella enter the room. “You don’t need to be here Tommen, Myrcella. We can handle this for you.” 

Tommen scowled. “I am the King, this is my council. I very much have to be here, it’s you who does not need to be here. Now I believe you are in my chair.” 

Cersei reluctantly got up and moved down the table. “Myrcella should not be here, she has no place on this council.” She insisted. 

Tommen took his seat at the head of the table and gestured to a serving girl to get a chair for Myrcella which she placed on the end of the table next to Tommen. “Neither do you mother, I insist that Myrcella stay with me. If anyone is not welcome here it is you.” 

Her mother frowned and her nostrils flared but she did not comment again even as Myrcella took her seat by Tommen’s side. 

Tommen folded his hands over his lap and sat straight-backed in his chair. “Now, what news was so urgent to call an emergency council meeting?”

“We have news from the wall, Your Grace.” An older man with warm blue eyes that Myrcella did not recognize answered. “Apparently the Lord Commander Jon Snow did not stay dead when he was killed in service. He rose out of his funeral pyre seven days later, alive and unburnt. Apparently, during the choosing for the next Lord Commander, he got lit on fire again and was still unharmed. They believe that he is a Targaryen, the son of Lyanna Stark’s rape.”

“It’s all lies of course,” Cersei interjected. “Just a power-hungry bastard trying to steal the throne from my son.” 

“Lord Qyburn,” Uncle Kevan addressed the old man who had given the report previously, so that was his name. “How reliable are your sources? Is this just a silly rumor spread by some peasant desperate for some coin?” 

“I can’t vouch for my sources, they aren’t ones I’ve relied on too heavily before. A dozen ravens came today from Castle Black all sharing the same tale of Jon Snow being a Targaryen and unburnt.” Lord Qyburn shared. 

“The whole thing is preposterous, I tell you.” An older man rasped who Myrcella vaguely recognized as Grand Maester Pycelle. “Fire always burns, there is no such thing as magic. This is obviously nothing but a lie.” Pycelle echoed Cersei’s previous statements. 

“It is a lie by a bastard desperate for power. We should send all of our armies south in order to crush this fool like we did his brother.” Her mother snarled. 

“Your Grace,” Uncle Kevan Lannister, Hand of The King asked. “The new Lord Commander of The Night’s Watch is Ser Davos Seaworth, hand to Stannis Baratheon. Did we consider the possibility that they want us to send all of our armies North?” 

“The Bolton’s reported Shireen Baratheon as missing after Stannis’s defeat. They claimed that some soldiers said that Stannis had sacrificed her to the Lord of Light but what if that was a lie? What if Ser Davos is claiming that the late Jon Snow is a Targaryen so we would send our armies north and leave the capital undefended when Shireen comes to take the crown.” 

Mace Tyrell nodded eagerly. “I was just going to say that. It’s an obvious ploy by the mockery of a knight, Davos Seaworth. We must keep our armies here and be prepared for war here in Kings Landing. Let the Boltons deal with Jon Snow.”

“Why not send the Lannister forces already marching to Riverrun to reinforce the Boltons. The capital would not be any more vulnerable if we did and the chances of Jon Snow winning if this is not a ploy would be significantly lower.” Uncle Kevan suggested. 

Tommen nodded. “See that it is done then, Lord Kevan.”

-

“Lady Olenna,” Myrcella curtsied as she took her seat at the table. Olenna Tyrell had invited her to join her for tea today. She had wanted to get to know her good-granddaughter, she claimed. Myrcella was all too eager to accept, the capital had quickly lost its luster with everyone at each other’s throats. Mother wanted her husband dead, Jamie was gone and Tommen had refused to leave her side at all when he could prevent it. He had been very clingy without his wife and Myrcella was all too grateful to accept the offer to have some time away from him. She loved her brother dearly but she needed some space on occasion. 

“Princess Myrcella, please you can call me Grandmum if you like, King Tommen does so and you are his sister after all,” Olenna replied with a smile. 

Myrcella giggled. “I’ve never had a Grandmum before, I would be honored to call you that.” 

“Tell me, Princess, how are you enjoying being back in King’s Landing after a year away?” Olenna asked.

“You can just call me Myrcella, Grandmum. I’ve never been one for all the formalities.” Myrcella said and then took a sip of her tea. 

“Me neither.” Olenna smiled and placed one of her wrinkled hands over Myrcella’s smoother hand. 

“It has been nice. I love Dorne but I didn’t realize how much I missed the people here until I saw them again, F-Uncle Jamie, Allya, Catelyn, Maria, Uncle Kevan, Mother…” Myrcella hid her grimace at the mention of her mother behind a sip of tea. “I’ve really enjoyed seeing everyone again. I missed them.” 

Olenna smiled knowingly. “But not King Tommen.” 

Myrcella shook her head. “No, I did miss my brother-” 

“He’s just a bit clingy,” Olenna interjected. 

Myrcella glanced down at her teacup and gave the barest of nods. 

Olenna sighed. “Tommen didn’t use to be like this. When I first met the King he was a happy child. He was a bit naive but he was sweet and kind yet strong at the same time. Alas, I fear that Margaery’s imprisonment has taken a toll on him.” 

Myrcella forced a small smile. “I’m sure that once Queen Margaery is freed in three days, Tommen will go back to his usual self,” Myrcella said with a hope she did not really feel. 

Lady Olenna looked forlorn and dabbed at the corner of her eyes with her handkerchief. “I’m afraid that Margaery will not be freed,” Olenna confessed. “Your mother has done a good job procuring witnesses willing to lie about Margaery. There is too much-fabricated evidence against my grand-daughter for her to be deemed innocent.” 

“Surely the Gods will smile down on her and she’ll win the trial? Even if it has to be by combat.” Myrcella argued half-heartedly. 

Olenna shook her head. “Perhaps but I’m worried that my grandson, Ser Loras will lose. He injured his knee only a few short weeks ago and who knows who the faith might choose as their champion. It could be anyone, they would have the advantage of knowing who Margaery’s champion is and how they fight while Ser Loras would know nothing, not exactly favorable odds.”

Myrcella frowned. 

“As much as I’m worried about my grand-daughter, I worry just as much about Tommen,” Olenna admitted. “Before you returned from Dorne, he was inconsolable. He would hide in his room and spend the whole day moping about and lamenting over his wife’s suffering. I worry what would happen to him if Margaery is executed when your uncle returns to take you to Casterly Rock with him.” 

Myrcella frowned again. She knew that his wife’s imprisonment had hit Tommen hard but she hadn’t allowed herself to think of what he would be like if his wife was actually executed for these false charges. She had been looking forward to meeting Margaery and having some personal space again that she did not think about the alternative option if she was found guilty. 

“Is there anything I can do to help Mar- The Queen?” Myrcella asked and chided herself quietly for using an informal address for a woman she had never met. 

Olenna shook her head and dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief once more. “I’m afraid not my dear, it’s all in the hands of the gods now.” 

Myrcella’s face fell even further. “I’ll be praying for her at least.” 

The two of them sat there in a somber silence or a few minutes before Olenna spoke up again. “Actually, I hate to ask this of you but there is one thing you can do to help.”

“I’ll do it.” Myrcella agreed before flushing when she realized she didn’t know what that thing was. 

“Thank you, my dear.” Olenna smiled and once again wiped away her tears. “Your mother, as I’m sure you are aware of, is the one prosecuting Margaery. One of her witnesses is a sweet bard that Margaery was ever so fond of named Wat.” Olenna then frowned and her voice hardened. “Your mother’s man, Qyburn had the poor bard tortured until he spewed the lies they wanted him to tell about Margaery.” 

Myrcella frowned. She knew hew mother was capable of cruelty for her children but surely trying to get her good-daughter who Tommen loved killed by torturing another for them to lie had to be too far. “Mother wouldn’t do that.” She argued half-heartedly. 

Olenna grimaced but hid it behind another soft smile. “Of course not, Qyburn was acting without your mother’s knowledge in an attempt to please her. He’s the one responsible for this tragedy, your mother hates Margaery and wants her gone but she wouldn’t ever go this far. Qyburn acted in order to give your mother the evidence she wants with methods that she would not condone.” 

Myrcella was pretty sure that was a lie but the lie was sweeter than the truth so she ate it anyway. “So what can I do to stop him?” Myrcella asked. 

“I know this isn’t honorable or but I fear for my grand-daughter and grand-son,” Olenna confessed with obvious shame. “With your uncle gone, as Heir to Casterly Rock you command the Lannister forces in King’s Landing, your word is the law to them. Can you-” Olenna cut herself off as she sobbed. 

Myrcella laced her hand with Olenna’s in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. “Tell me what I can do to help.” She demanded quietly. 

Olenna wiped away her tears. “Your mother has men from Casterly Rock guarding the Black Cells, can you ask one of them to confess that Qyburn had Wat tortured until he agreed to lie? That the charges are all fabricated?” She asked before looking away from Myrcella embarrassed at her request. 

Myrcella smiled softly. “Of course.”

Olenna squeezed her hand tightly. “Thank you, my dear.” 

-

“We are gathered here today for the trial of the Queen, Margaery Tyrell on accounts of infidelity to His Grace, King Tommen, lewdness, adultery, fornication, adultery, lying before the Gods and high treason. May the Father grant us judgment and the Crone grant us the wisdom to discern the truth.” The High Sparrow intoned. “Presiding over this trial is Roslin, Robert, Rhaena, James, Thomas, Lady Alys Bulwer, and myself the High Septon. Acting as the defendant for the accused is her brother Lord Willas Tyrell.” 

Myrcella had only ever been to one trial before, back when she thought King Robert Baratheon was still her father but this was certainly the oddest one she’d ever seen. The High Septon had chosen five commoners to sit as the jury over the trial. People who would be easily bribed or decide that their anger over their station or lack thereof would influence their decision making. That seemed like a foolish decision but from what Myrcella had heard of the High Sparrow he was a man of the people who considered the commoners equal to even the King in the eyes of the gods so it made sense for him to choose nobodies to preside over the Queen’s trial. 

Tommen was a bundle of nerves as his wife was brought out to the stand. She looked terrible, although less so than her mother did. She was pale and gaunt wearing a simple sackcloth as her only clothing, very unbecoming for a Queen. Despite her current state she stood tall and looked completely unfazed by her ordeal. 

Despite his wife’s appearance at the current time, Tommen was absolutely besotted with her. He looked at her with a clear desire in his eyes and his concern was palatable. He looked at her the same way Trystane looked at her and father did to her mother. 

Her mother was glaring at the Queen and seemed joyful at her current state. Tommen blamed their mother for his wife’s imprisonment as did Grandmum Olenna and while she wasn’t so certain before, it seemed that it might be the case with the pure hatred their mother was openly displaying towards Queen Margaery. Myrcella couldn’t understand why their mother couldn’t just be happy that both her and Tommen were in love with their spouse like father was. 

“Queen Margaery Tyrell, you have been accused of being unfaithful to your husband the King Tommen which is an act of treason and as such punishable by death. How do you plead?” The High Sparrow asked. 

“Not guilty.” Margaery declared her voice full of confidence but somewhat raspy due to her lack of speaking while imprisoned for the last few moons.

“There are witnesses against you, Queen Margaery.” The High Sparrow said. “We shall hear their honest testimony first and then you will be allowed to call forth your own witnesses. You will not be permitted to speak until it is your turn and any infractions will be made a note.”

“We understand, High Holiness.” Lord Willas Tyrell spoke on his sister’s behalf. 

“The prosection calls forth it’s first witness, Septa Moelle.” The High Sparrow called out and in walked a rather large Septa with a mean face. “Septa Moelle do you swear in the sight of all of the Gods that you will speak only the truth and give honest testimony to the best of your knowledge?”

“I do.” Moelle confirmed.    
  


“Septa Moelle please share what you have to say then.” 

“When Queen Margaery was taken into the custody of the faith, I inspected the Queen’s maidenhead to see if there was any validity to the charges leveled against her. Her maidenhead was already broken.” 

“Thank you, Septa Moelle.” The High Sparrow declared with a slight inclination of his head. “The prosecution calls forth its next witness, Grand Maester Pycelle.” 

In walked an old friendly man that Myrcella knew well from how often he had treated her when they were children. He was, however, missing his long beard that when she had last seen him went past his waist but now he only had a chin full of peach fuzz. “Grand Maester Pycelle do you swear in the sight of all of the Gods that you will speak only the truth and give honest testimony to the best of your knowledge?” 

“I do.” Pycelle agreed as he bobbed his head sagely.

“Please give us your honest testimony then, Maester.” 

Pycelle pulled a scroll out of his robe and began to read off of it. “On the eighth day of the sixth month in the year three-hundred AC, Queen Margaery came to me asking for the herbal brew of tansy, a contraceptive more commonly referred to as Moon Tea. I granted her request and gave her a batch as was my duty as Grand Maester.” 

“You did not think it was odd that the Queen was asking for Moon Tea?” The plump man sitting on the jury that Myrcella thought might have been Robert accused. 

Grand Maester Pycelle shook his head. “I presumed that His Grace, King Tommen simply did not want an heir yet. I never imagined a scandal of this magnitude or that the Queen had taken another lover nor was it my place to, I serve the King and Queen not judge their choices..” 

Margaery looked like she wanted to say something and she was visibly angry but her brother Willas whispered something in her ear and had a hand on her knee which seemed to be enough to contain her obvious anger. 

“Thank you, Grand Maester Pycelle.” The High Sparrow declared with a slight inclination of his head. “The prosecution calls forth its next witness, Wat the Bard.” 

Out walked a rather frail and sickly looking man in all blue who might have been called handsome once but no longer looked the part. His one remaining blue eye was beady and frantic and he was shaking as he walked to the stand. His hair was a blondish color that looked like he hadn’t received a hair cut in a long while or even brushed it. His fingers were swollen and purple, unable to play an instrument ever again. His teeth were oddly pristine compared to the rest of his body, unnaturally white even. Judging by her mother’s glowering look of accomplishment, it was obvious who was responsible for the bard’s current state. Evidentally her mother was trying to fabricate evidence against Margaery. If she did that to get rid of Tommen’s wife, would she do the same for her? Myrcella hoped not, she loved her husband. 

“Wat the Bard, do you swear in the sight of all of the Gods that you will speak only the truth and give honest testimony to the best of your knowledge?”

“I-I-I d-do.” The Bard stuttered as he looked directly at the floor in front of him.

“Please share your honest testimony then, Wat.” 

“S-sometimes L-lady Margaery would f-fondle herself while h-her c-cousins p-pleasured m-me w-with their m-mouths,” Wat confessed, a stuttering wreck. If she had doubted Olenna was telling the truth about Wat being tortured into lying those doubts were gone now. “O-other t-times I-I-I would sing for h-her w-whilst she s-sated h-her l-l-lusts with other m-men.” 

“Who were those other men?” The High Sparrow prompted gently. 

“S-Ser Tallad, L-lambert T-turnberry, J-Jalabhar Xho, Hugh Cl-clifton, and Os-osney Ket-kettleblack.” Wat replied quietly as if he was afraid of being overheard. 

“Thank you, for your testimony, Wat. The prosecution calls forth its next witness, Lady Alla Tyrell.” 

Out to the stand walked a rather beautiful maiden that she had seen around the red keep before but never met. The girl was maybe ten and four, she avoided making eye contact with anyone and instead stood with her head down as if she was the one on trial. 

“Lady Alla Tyrell, do you swear in the sight of all of the Gods that you will speak only the truth and give honest testimony to the best of your knowledge?” The High Sparrow asked once more. 

Alla Tyrell glanced at him before averting her eyes in favor of the sight of her own feet. “I do.” 

“Please share your testimony then, Lady Alla.” 

“My cousins Margaery, Elinor, and Megga along with myself would sometimes call for men to give us improper attention and pleasure.” Alla never looked up as she spoke in a quiet voice. “I never partook, of course, only watched as my cousins pleasured themselves with men who were not their husband like some kind of whore.” Her face was an unnatural red by the end as if this was the most scandalous thing she had ever seen. 

Myrcella chances a look over at Grandmum Olenna who had an ugly sneer on her face as her own kin lied about Queen Margaery and did not even implicate herself. Myrcella couldn’t help but share her sentiment. Margaery was very clearly hurt by the baseless accusations her cousin had no doubt been bribed into making by Myrcella’s mother. 

“Who were those men?” The High Sparrow prompted her. 

“Ser Tallad the Tall, Hugh Clifton, Osney Kettleblack, Jalabar Xho, and... Wat the Bard,” Alla replied with only the slightest hesitation. She finally lifted her eyes and looked at the High Sparrow at the end there. 

Grandmum Olenna for some reason looked ecstatic at her response. It only took a minute for Myrcella to figure out why that was. Alla had left out Lambert Turnberry from her confession throwing Wat’s recount into question. 

“Thank you, Lady Alla.” The High Sparrow dipped his head to her and she practically ran out of the room at her dismissal. “The prosecution calls forth its next witness, Hugh Clifton.”

Out walked another man who well he didn’t look nearly as bad as Wat had, he had obviously been tortured into selling Cersei’s lie. He had fresh scars on his cheeks and his arms were wrapped in bandages.

“Hugh Clifton, do you swear in the sight of all of the Gods that you will speak only the truth and give honest testimony to the best of your knowledge?” The High Sparrow parroted the customary question he had asked so many times today. 

“I do.” Clifton confirmed with a slight nod. 

“Please share your testimony now.” 

“I was assigned to guard the Queen when shortly after she was wed to Renly Baratheon. When she was married she rarely slept with her husband. Her husband usually found his way into a man’s bed and she often would invite men who were not her husband into her bed with Lord Renly not only aware of those dalliances but encouraging them. I’ll admit I myself was lured to their bed on more than one occasion.” 

She heard a shifting of armor behind her and looked back to see Ser Loras’s face red with rage and it looked like it took all of his discipline to not leap down there and skewer Clifton for his likely lies. Everyone knew that Renly preferred men and everyone believed Ser Loras was one of Renly’s more frequent lovers. This had to be hard for Ser Loras to listen to a man he once trusted to protect his sister slander both his sister and dead lover. 

“I thought these dalliances would end once she was betrothed to Joffrey and later married to Tommen but to my horror they did not. To my unending shame, I continued to fall into her bed and had sexual relations with her even while she was married to His Grace, King Tommen. I can only beg the gods for forgiveness for my weakness.” 

“Thank you, Hugh Clifton. The gods forgive and by choosing to confess and repent you will find mercy.” The High Sparrow spoke softly. “The prosecution calls forth its next witness, Ser Tallad.” 

Myrcella could see why he was called Ser Tallad the Tall when he entered the room and walked to the stand. He was as tall as anyone Myrcella had ever seen and was skinny as a rail. His face was soft and he did not carry himself like other large men such as Ser Robert Strong did but as someone much more demure.”

“Ser Tallad, do you swear in the sight of all of the Gods that you will speak only the truth and give honest testimony to the best of your knowledge?” The High Sparrow parroted the customary question he had asked so many times today. 

“I do.” Ser Tallad confirmed with a slight nod. His voice was low and gravelly while his face showed no sign of his true emotions. “

“We ask that you share your testimony then.” 

“I was a lover to Queen Margaery since her days as a husband to Renly Baratheon. Renly had certain proclivities for men that left him unable to sate his wife’s desires so she would call on me to warm her bed. After Renly’s death, she still often called me to bed with her, even during her betrothal to King Joffrey and after she married King Tommen. I foolishly believed my lust to be love and I can only ask the father to show me mercy for my sins.” 

Ser Tallad was a good actor, if this was a lie of course. Evidentally her mother had offered him some substantial reward for his mummery as he betrayed his liege lord. He genuinely looked remorseful for his crimes and like he wanted to change. He looked ashamed as he confessed his treason and adultery to all the realm.

“Thank you, Ser Tallad. The gods forgive and by choosing to confess and repent you will find mercy.” The High Sparrow spoke softly. “The prosecution calls forth its next witness, Jalabhar Xho.” 

A summer islander with the native dark skin in a bright yellow vest with a feathered green cape practically floated out to the stand to share his testimony. He was dressed as a prince and not a man on trial with all his various jewels he wore one his person. Myrcella vaguely recognized him from his time in King Robert’s court as an exiled prince begging for aid to reclaim his home. 

“Jalabhar Xho, do you swear in the sight of all of the Gods that you will speak only the truth and give honest testimony to the best of your knowledge?” The High Sparrow asked once more. 

Jalabhar grinned up at the box that the royal family was sitting in. “I do.” His accent was thick and even if Myrcella did not know who he was she would immediately recognize he was from the Summer Isles based solely on his accent. No doubt he was trying to bedazzle her mother with his lies with that cocky and proud grin he sported on his face. 

With how jubilant her mother was it seemed to be working, the trial was playing out exactly as her mother had wanted. Everyone was testifying the lies she had spoon-fed them and Lord Willas Tyrell was going to have a hard time digging Margaery out of the hole the prosecution had put her in. 

“Please share your honest testimony when ready then.” 

“I served as a tutor to Queen Margaery, and her maidens, Alla, Megga, and Elinor.” His voice was seemingly softer at the mention of the last name he gave but that might have just been Myrcella’s imagination. “I would teach them the summer tongue and tell them stories of the beauty of the summer isles. Margaery would promise to bring my case before the King in exchange for the lessons.”

Jalabhar sighed and flexed his hands. “I fell in love with the lady Elinor during those lessons despite her hand already being promised to Lord Alyn Ambrose. I will admit that I took her maidenhead but I will deny that I had any sexual relations with the Queen or the other ladies being accused and anyone whose claimed to have seen otherwise is nothing but a liar.” 

Jalabhar turned to glare at the box they were seated in. “Shortly after the Queen, Elinor, and the others were taken into custody on the senseless ramblings of a bard, the Queen-Mother Cersei had me taken into custody and thrown in a cell for cucking the King. She offered me the wall, in exchange for me confessing to having sexual relations with the Queen. She never tried to figure out if it was the truth just demanded a confession. Fearing that I might be tortured until I broke like that poor bard that my Lady Elinor was so fond of, I agreed to confess if I got the wall.” 

“I confess the truth as the gods have demanded.” He declared. “I confess that I love my Lady Elinor.” His gaze once again drifted to the royal box and he found her mother’s furious eyes. “I confess that this trial is nothing but a farce organized by the Queen-Mother Cersei, in an attempt to take the crown from the rightful Queen’s head.” 

If the High Sparrow was at all unnerved by the man’s loud declarations then he gave no sign of it. “Thank you for your testimony, Jalabhar Xho.” Jalabhar bowed and left the room to complete silence. “The prosecution had no more witnesses. We will adjourn briefly and then then the defendant will be allowed to present witnesses to share their testimony when we reconvene.”

Myrcella chanced a glance at mother during the break and was pleased to see that she looked furious at Jalabhar’s actually honest testimony. She was muttering under her breath and her hands were balled into fists at her side. Her face was red and she was trembling with pure rage. Myrcella couldn’t help but wonder just why her mother hated Margaery so much, she knew she was protective of her and Tommen but this seemed to be too far. She didn’t even hate Trystane half as much. She glanced over at her husband sitting by her side and he squeezed her hand in an attempt to comfort her. A vain one, sure but the sentiment was nice. 

After what was probably only an hour, the High Sparrow banged his gavel and called for order. “We will now reconvene the trial of Margaery Tyrell with the defendant presenting their own witnesses before we reach a final verdict of guilt. Lord Willas, do you have any witnesses you would like to call forth?” 

Lord Willas did not stand, seeing as how he was as cripple and just spoke from his wheelchair. “The defendant calls forth Maester Lomys to bear witness.” 

An elderly maester with a hooked nose stepped up to the stand. “Maester Lomys, do you swear in the sight of all of the Gods that you will speak only the truth and give honest testimony to the best of your knowledge?” The High Sparrow asked the maester.

“I do.” The maester agreed without any hesitation.

“Maester Lomys, you have served as maester at Highgarden for eight and thirty years now, is that correct?” Lord Willas asked the maester. 

“That is correct, my lord.” The maester replied with a slight nod of his head. 

“Can you share with the court when you first discovered Margaery’s maidenhead had broken?” Willas prodded. 

“I first discovered Queen Margaery’s maidenhead had been broken on her routine checkup after her ninth nameday, before she had flowered. Queen Margaery had likely snapped hers during horseback riding as when she was younger she was quite the frequent rider. It is a common occurrence for a young girl to lose her maidenhead through non-sexual acts.”

“Thank you, Maester Lomys. No more questions for you.” 

The old maester nodded and bowed towards Margaery and then he left the room. 

“The defendant calls forth their next witness, Lady Elinor Tyrell.” Willas declared and in waltzed the beautiful maiden that had stolen the heart of the exiled prince, Jalabhar Xho. It was not hard to see why her prince was so besotted with her, she was not at all lacking in beauty. Her auburn hair shone and her face was beautiful. She had a curvy figure and Myrcella noted one of the judges that she couldn’t remember the name of was staring at her with visibly present lust in his gaze. 

“Lady Elinor Tyrell, do you swear in the sight of all of the Gods that you will speak only the truth and give honest testimony to the best of your knowledge?” The High Sparrow asked once again. 

The girl nodded and looked to where Jhalabar Xho was now seated after giving his own testimony. “I do.”

“It has been alleged that you carried on an affair with Jhalabar Xho, are those accusations true?” Willas questioned calmly. 

“They are.” She confirmed. “We’ve been together since I first arrived in Kings Landing with Margaery, almost two years ago despite my hand being promised to Lord Ambrose.” 

“Was Queen Margaery aware of this affair?” Willas prodded.

“She was,” Elinor confirmed.

“Did she help you hide your affair?” Willas asked immediately after her last answer.

“She did.” Elinor agreed. “She would even ask for moon tea as she believed that her marriage to the King would stop people from investigating why it was needed. She knew it would be suspicious if I was the one to ask for it since I was not married and wanted my happiness. I’m ashamed that my own selfishness led to the false accusations about Margaery and caused her and Megga to suffer.”

“No more questions. Thank you, Lady Elinor, for your testimony.” 

Elinor exchanged a sad smile with Jhalabar Xho before she left the stand joined her cousins in the audience. 

“The defendant calls forth their next witness, Ser Loreon Lannister.” Willas Tyrell called out and instantly people started muttering, shocked that the Tyrells would have a Lannister testify for Margaery and by extent against Cersei.

Myrcella had done as Grandmum Olenna had begged her to and told the guard of the Black Cells to confess of what Qyburn had done to Wat and the other prisoners. A part of Myrcella pitied the scorn Loreon would receive for stepping out against his family even if it was on her orders and a part of Myrcella wanted to tell mother he was doing it on her orders. But she refrained because she was afraid of losing her mother despite her recent cruelty so she said nothing letting Loreon take the scorn here for her. 

“Loreon Lannister, do you swear in the sight of all of the Gods that you will speak only the truth and give honest testimony to the best of your knowledge?” The High Sparrow asked once the room had quieted down. 

Loren looked towards the box Myrcella was seated in and a part of her wanted to hide away. She was afraid of her mother finding out but she needed her brother to have his love back. If she backed out Margaery could die and her death would be on Myrcella’s hands so she met Loreon’s gaze and nodded slightly, hopefully, an imperceptible gesture to her mother. 

“I do,” Loreon confirmed loudly. 

“Loreon Lannister, you serve as a guard to the Black Cells in the Red Keep?” Willas asked already knowing the answer. 

“I do.” He confirmed his eyes once again finding Myrcella’s and again she wanted to flinch away. 

“When was Wat first imprisoned in the black cells, was it before or after the arrest warrant went out and Margaery was arrested?

“A week before, the arrest of Margaery and a day more before the warrant was issued as far as I’m aware.”

“Can you describe what you noticed of Wat’s imprisonment in the Black Cells?” Willas prodded gently. 

“Wat was taken into captivity as a healthy lad full of vigor and youthful energy even when thrown in chains. The day after he was put in captivity, Lord Qynburnt and later Cersei visited him. I was not permitted to join them in the cell during their interrogation but when I saw him again the next day all his enthusiasm was gone. One of his eyes had been removed and his teeth were riddled with holes, his finger and toenails had all been removed in an effort to make him talk. He was broken.” Loreon admitted frequently glancing towards Myrcella in order to make sure that these confessions against her mother were okay. 

In unison horrified gasps sounded all around the court as he described the brutal torture of Wat in the Black Cells. She couldn’t help but be skeptical that they are all genuine and not just hiding their casual acceptance of it like her mother often did. 

“No more questions. Thank you for your honest testimony, Loreon Lannister.” Willas said sincerely. Loreon nodded once more in Myrcella’s direction before leaving the stage without another word. 

“The defendant calls forth their next witness, Archmaester Ebrose.” Willas declared. 

Out to the stand walked a silver man. Like all Archmaesters, Ebrose wore a half mask on his face, a ring, and a rod which for this particular Archmaester was silver in color. His robe was also an extravagant silver. His hair was even silver although that was likely due to his advanced age. Still, he looked much more impressive than the Grandmaester Pycelle ever had.

“Archmaester Ebrose, do you swear in the sight of all of the Gods that you will speak only the truth and give honest testimony to the best of your knowledge?” The High Sparrow asked once more. 

The elderly maester did not hesitate. “I do.” 

“If I am not mistaken, Lord Qyburn served under you as an acolyte at the citadel before he was expelled.” 

“That is correct.” The Archmaester confirmed. 

“Can you detail for us why he was expelled from the citadel?” 

“I personally expelled Qyburn. He was practicing forbidden necromantic arts and had taken to experimenting on still-living humans, even dissecting them before trying to put them back together. He was immediately stripped of his status and banished from the citadel, he was forbidden from ever serving as a Maester.” Ebrose shared without hesitation. 

“So would you consider torture a form of his expertise?” Willas asked quietly.

The Maester seemed to ponder it for a moment and then nodded. “I wouldn’t use such crude terms but that does appear to be a field that his unique proclivities would be best suited for.” 

“Your High Holiness, I would like to petition that we have the testimony of Wat dismissed as the evidence provided by Archmaester Ebrose and Loreon Lannister that it came after extreme torture and illegal partitioning of human dissection by an ex-acolyte who was forbidden from ever practicing his craft when he was banished. He did this before an official arrest warrant was issued by the King. I would also suggest Lord Qyburn’s immediate imprisonment for his crimes and violations of his oath.” Willas pleaded. 

The High Sparrow stood up once more and banged his gavel. “All in favor of having the testimony of Wat dismissed?” All of the members of the jury except one raised their hand to signify that Wat’s testimony was meaningless. “The testimony of Wat will be stricken from the record.” 

“Sons of the Warrior, I ask that you take Lord Qyburn and hold him custody until his own trial.” The High Sparrow ordered and Myrcella watched as Lord Qyburn was peacefully stood from his place beside her mother, patting Ser Robert on the shoulder and exited with the faith militant to occupy a cell of his own. Cersei tried to hide it behind a passive face but Myrcella knew how furious her mother was that her loyal dog was now a prisoner, that the man who could doom her with his testimony was now in the custody of the man she would be tried by later this week. He could expose all her secret plots- but mother would get off free of any consequences because of the ever so just, trial by combat.

After things had settled back down, the High Sparrow resumed the trial of Margaery Tyrell. “Does the defendant have any more witnesses that they would like to call forth and share their testimony.” He asked of Lord Willas. 

“Just one more. The defendant calls forth Ser Osney Kettleblack to bear testimony.” Willas declared with a slight smirk.

“Ser Osney, do you swear in the sight of all of the Gods that you will speak only the truth and give honest testimony to the best of your knowledge?” The High Sparrow asked for what should be the final time today and since Cersei’s trial would be by combat, hopefully, the last time Myrcella ever heard him say that. 

Ser Osney turned his faze up to the top box and glared at Myrcella’s mother. “I do. 

“Ser Osney, can you detail for us the circumstances that led to your imprisonment by the faith?” Willas asked with a small smile. 

“I can.” Ser Osney agreed firmly before resuming his glare at Myrcella’s mother. “Queen Cersei approached me and asked me to try to seduce Margaery Tyrell so she could imprison her for infidelity and have her executed. She wanted me to then confess my crime to the High Septon and I would be granted the mercy of taking the black where I was to kill the Lord Commander, Jon Snow. I would then be granted a pardon for my crimes and be given a Lordship and a highborn wife.”

Shocked gasps rang around the room despite everyone having already assumed similar. It was only proper after all for one to be affronted and outraged by behavior like this. Myrcella simply scoffed. 

“As an incentive to perform the task she fucked me, repeatedly.” Ser Osney added with a slight chuckle. 

This time it was Myrcella who was outraged. Mother loved father, she would never. He had to be lying. She believed that her mother was behind Margaery’s current situation but she would never choose to sleep with someone else other than father. 

“I failed in my task, Margaery was kind to me and would tease a little but I could never seduce her into breaking her vows to her husband. So instead the Queen asked me to lie to the gods and claim that I had fucked her. As an incentive for telling that lie, she fucked me again so I could tell it true when I said I fucked a Queen. I did as she bid but the Crone gave his High Holiness the wisdom to see the lie for what it was and now I stand here today telling the truth in the sight of the gods.”

“Queen Margaery Tyrell is innocent of the charges leveled against her, they are nothing but fabrications by the Dowager Queen Cersei to the best of my knowledge. Cersei Lannister has at least attempted to coerce myself and other key witnesses, including Wat the Bard through either torture or reward. The only Queen guilty of any crime here is Cersei Lannister.” Ser Osney roared his eyes never leaving the top box and Cersei.

Lord Willas Tyrell stood with a smug smile. “Thank you for your honest testimony, Ser Osney.” He turned towards the High Sparrow once more. “The defendant does not feel the need to present any more witnesses, your High Holiness.” 

The High Sparrow stood once more. “I think we can all agree we are ready to reach a verdict on the guilt of Queen Margaery Tyrell. All those in favor of a guilty verdict?” He asked of the jury and only one person, the same one who wanted to count Wat’s false testimony in the proceedings raised his hand. Likely a man loyal to her mother or whatever incentive she had bribed him with. 

“All those opposed?” The High sparrows asked and the other six hands rose in the air.

The High Sparrow smiled and banged his gavel for the final time. “The Gods have spoken here today and delivered their justice. In the name of the seven, I hereby declare that Margaery Tyrell is not guilty of all charges.”

Tommen turned to her with the biggest smile she had ever seen from him and pulled Myrcella into a crushing hug. “She’s free!” He cheered. 

Margaery was finally free. Myrcella was going to get to meet her good-sister. She smiled brightly as well as she hugged Tommen back. Cersei, on the other hand, had an ugly scowl on her face that she made no effort to hide from anyone. Why couldn’t their mother just be happy both her and Tommen were happy and in love like their father was.

-

Their mother did not look nearly so jubilant as they went to her own trial today. She was escorted down onto the stage by the faith militant where she would be held for the duration of the trial to prevent her from attempting to flee. 

Ser Robert Strong had been conspicuously absent this morning as mother’s shadow at breakfast and as they rode to her trial but Myrcella supposed he was just preparing for the trial by combat elsewhere since he would undoubtedly be named as her champion. 

Myrcella took her seat in between Tommen and her husband and took both of their hands, intertwining fingers needing some comfort as she watched her mother’s life be put on the line in a trial by combat. She was sure Ser Robert would defeat whoever he had to face but it was still nerve-wracking to know that one misstep by him would cost her mother her life. She was mad at her mother and maybe even hated her a little bit but she did not want her mother to die. 

The trial for her mother was surprisingly lacking in attendees, at least in comparison to that of Queen Margaery. The section reserved for the members of the faith militant was particularly lacking with maybe half as many people there today as there was the previous day. She supposed most of them must just be squeamish and did not want to watch Ser Robert rip someone in half. Myrcella could understand that herself, she didn’t particularly want to watch such carnage either. 

The High Sparrow stood to his feet and the hushed murmurs silenced. “We are gathered here today for the trial of the Queen-Mother, Cersei Lannister on accounts of infidelity to the late King Robert of House Baratheon, the first of his name, lewdness, adultery, fornication, lying before the Gods and conspiring against the Queen Margaery Tyrell, which is an act of high treason. May the Father grant us judgment and the Crone grant us the wisdom to discern the truth.” The High Sparrow intoned. “Presiding over this trial is Rose, Joana, Tytus, Lord Janos Wendwater, Miriam, Thomas Waters, and myself the High Septon. Acting as the defendant for the accused will be herself, the Queen-Mother Cersei Lannister.” 

“Queen-Mother Cersei Lannister, you have been accused of being unfaithful to your late-husband, King Robert of House Baratheon, the first of his name, lewdness, adultery, fornication, lying before the Gods and conspiring against the Queen Margaery Tyrell, which is an act of high treason and as such punishable by death. How do you plead?” The High Sparrow asked. 

Cersei naturally did not respond to the accusations. “The gods know that I am innocent but I can not trust foolish men to find the truth so I leave it in the hands of the gods. I demand a trial by combat.” She sniffed and held her head up high. 

“A trial by combat you will have then. In accordance with the precedent set by King Aegon, the champion for any member of the royal family must be one of the king’s sworn seven.” 

Her mother smiled gracefully. “Of course, I name Ser Robert Strong as my champion.” 

The High Sparrow frowned. “I’m afraid that is not possible, Your Grace.” 

Cersei scowled at him in confusion. “What do you mean that’s not possible? Ser Robert was sworn in as a member of the Kingsguard. He is the champion of my innocence.” 

The High Sparrow actually scowled back at her although his tone was nothing if not polite. “Ser Robert Strong attacked the Great Sept of Baelor last night and absconded with Lord Qyburn after slaughtering all of the sons of the warrior present at the Sept last night in the escape.” 

_ Oh gods. _ Myrcella did this, sure she didn’t kill them all herself but she was the reason Qyburn was arrested. She told Loreon to testify against him at Margaery’s trial and as a result, Ser Robert had slaughtered men to rescue him from his imprisonment and likely death. All because of her actions at the behest of Grandmum Olenna. Olenna looked just as horrified as Myrcella felt she had a hand over her mouth and her eyes were wide as she stared at the High Septon in complete disbelief. This was an unexpected consequence for them all of Qyburn’s arrest and imprisonment. 

Her mother, Cersei looked scared for the first time Myrcella could remember seeing. She had been sad and shaken before but never truly terrified like she was right now. She was visibly trembling as she tried to regain control of the situation. “I name Ser Osmund Kettleblack as my champion.” She declared in a shaky voice.

Ser Osmund limped forward. “I’m afraid I must decline, Your Grace. I injured myself in a spar yesterday and would not be able to aptly defend your honor.” He said politely but it was obvious that he was upset with her for what had happened to his brother at Cersei’s behest. 

“Ser Loras Tyrell!” Cersei cried out desperately and Queen Margaery chuckled.

The High Sparrow shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Your Grace. Ser Loras was already chosen as the faith’s champion by the Warrior for your trial if you chose one to have it be by combat before he was sworn in the Kingsguard.” 

_ Oh gods,  _ Grandmum Olenna had planned for this to happen, Myrcella by telling Loreon to testify had doomed her own mother to death. She had been stupid and fell for the lie about them wanting to only punish Qyburn for torturing Wat and imprisoning Queen Margaery. She had thought they were doing it for Tommen’s sake, to get Margaery back but this was always about punishing her mother’s foolishness. 

She curled into her husband’s side and cried into his shoulder. “It’s my fault.” She sobbed. Trystane did his best to comfort her by rubbing circles on her back but it was largely ineffectual. 

“Ser Jamie Lannister!” Her mother shrieked. “I choose Jamie as my champion.” 

Most of the room laughed at that response. Whether it was because he was a cripple or not a member of the Kingsguard she could not say why they did but they laughed all the same at her desperateness to have someone capable fight for her. 

Myrcella was incredibly glad that Jamie had hung up his white cloak. She knew father would lose to Ser Loras and mother was going to die in this trial regardless she could not lose father as well. 

“Your Grace,” Queen Margaery called out two seats over from Myrcella. “Ser Jamie is no longer a knight of the Kingsguard. He resigned a moon ago. I understand how you could forget, however, with all that has been going on in the last few days. I’m sure it has been a very upsetting week for you.” She taunted. 

Trystane’s chest heaved and it only took a moment for Myrcella to realize that this time her husband was one of the people who laughed at her mother. She angrily tore herself from his grip and turned to Tommen only to find him smiling as well. She scowled and pulled her hands away from both of them instead just crossing her arms over her chest, making no efforts to hide her tears. 

She understood why her husband hated Cersei, and he was justified in doing so but he could at least pretended to care about her for Myrcella’s sake, She might have gotten his favorite uncle killed and the Lannister’s did murder his cousins as children. Myrcella just wanted an understanding shoulder to cry on.

Tommen was even easier to understand because Myrcella felt mostly the same. She too hated mother right now for her actions and interference in her love life. She still loved her, however, and certainly did not want her dead. Tommen, on the other hand, seemed to not care if their mother died, perhaps it was simply because he was a child who did not understand that she would really be gone forever. Or perhaps Myrcella would feel the same if it was Trystane that their mother had conspired to kill. 

Her mother sighed and hung her head, resigned to her fate. “I name Ser Balon Swann as my champion.” 

Surely, he couldn't be that terrible of a fighter right? He was who her father had chosen as his successor as Lord Commander of the King’s Guard. He could beat the tourney champion knight Ser Loras in single combat, right?

Ser Balon stepped forward and bowed. “I would be honored to fight as your champion, Your Grace.” 

-

“In the sight of gods and men, we gather to ascertain the guilt or innocence of this...woman Cersei of House Lannister. The champion for Cersei of House Lannister, Queen-Mother of, His Grace, King Tommen is Ser Balon Swann. The champion of the Gods choosing to represent the faith is Ser Loras Tyrell. May the Mother grant them mercy. May the Father give them such justice as they deserve. And may the Warrior guide the hand of our champion to determine the truth.” The High Sparrow declared, and with that, the trial by combat began. 

Ser Balon Swann was in the traditional garb he wore as a member of the Kingsguard. He wore the same silver armor he always did with a white cloak clasped to his shoulders by an ivory stag for the King’s House and an onyx swan for his own. He wore a full helmet with swan wings at the edges of his eyes with a narrow slit at his eye level so he could see his opponent and his chain mail left him protected at his neck from any glancing blows. He carried a morningstar with a six-foot reach in his right hand and a small plain round shield on his left arm.

Ser Loras Tyrell was much more flashy. He wore his usual fanciful silver armor with twining black vines embroidered on it and the plate was adjourned with sparkling sapphires that shined beneath the bright sun. His helmet with a caged guard that protected his face from any broader strikes but a small blade could pass through the slits. His helmet was equally as lavish with roses of solid gold embroidered on it. He carried a more traditional bastard sword with a larger rectangular shield on his other arm bearing the seven-pointed star of the faith he was championing for. 

Her husband tutted at Ser Loras’s taste in weapon for the fight in what she assumed was an attempt to comfort her. “Choosing a sword against an armored opponent was unwise,” he explained to her. “He’ll do very little when he lands a blow against the heavy plate of Ser Balon.”

When he noted Ser Balon’s weapons of choice he nodded in approval. “The morning star is a much better weapon for this fight. Ser Balon is strong and one solid hit to the chest or head and he could kill Ser Loras instantly. He had more reach than Ser Loras as well with his weapon. Ser Loras will have to be quick and dance around him to win this fight.” 

There was a chance that her mother actually won this then, a chance that she would survive this trial. All it took was for the warrior to smile down on Ser Balon and let him get a single lucky hit in and he would win. Ser Loras was obviously the better and more capable of the combatants but all it took was one mistake and he could be dead and mother would live.

As soon as the trumpets sounded to declare the trial had begun, Ser Loras lunged towards Ser Balon with a swift strike at his flank. Ser Balon easily deflected it with his shield and tried to club Ser Loras’s side with his mace but Ser Loras easily spun out of the way.

Ser Loras jabbed once more and again Ser Balon easily blocked it before attempting to club Ser Loras’s skull but he spun away once more and lunged forward, this time he was too quick for Ser Balon to block and he took a glancing blow to his shoulder that seemed to not faze him at all as he scratched at his armor. 

Ser Balon lunged forward this time with an overhead strike with the mace that Ser Loras narrowly managed to get his shield up in time to deflect the blow. He shoved off with his shield and glided backward, once again putting some distance between them.

Ser Balon immediately lunged forwards once more with a side strike that was deflected this time by Ser Loras’s sword and well the weapon was blocked by the sword, he stepped forward and shoved Ser Balon’s chest with his shield, causing the larger knight to stumble backward.

That was an opportunity that Ser Loras did not fail to take advantage of as he forced Ser Balon on the backfoot with a flurry of rapid strikes that Ser Balon only just managed to block before the next blow would come raining down on him. A hit got through and nicked his chest, another one scratched the side of his head. A third against his knee. Ser Balon was clearly losing this fight.

Luckily, the gods were on her mother’s side and Ser Loras randomly stumbled while advancing, allowing Ser Balon to put some distance between them again and go back on the offensive with a swift strike towards Ser Loras’s middle.

He of course parried that and took a step back before lunging forward once more. With a blow that was easily deflected by Ser Balon’s Mace. They danced that way for a good few minutes with each person parrying the others blow with the greatest of ease as neither managed to land a single hit. 

Myrcella felt hope with every blow that Ser Balon parried and every step that Ser Loras took back. Soon his back would be against the wall and he would have no chance to dance out of the way of Ser Balon’s blows. “She might win,” Myrcella muttered quietly. 

“I doubt it.” Trystane scoffed. “Every second this fight foes one for, Ser Loras’s victory becomes much more likely.” He explained to her. “Ser Balon has thicker and heavier armor with a weapon that requires more brute force than finesse. He tires as the fight drags on and soon Ser Loras will be able to defeat him with little difficulty.”

Her husband really sucked at reassuring her and giving her false hope. At least he didn’t sound so giddy about her mother dying anymore. He was at least trying to pretend he wanted Ser Balon to win and mother to live. 

Ser Balon made a broad overhanded stroke with his morning star and Ser Loras lifted his sword to block the strike. Steel rang across steel as the blades clashed with Ser Balon putting all his force into the blow. Then Ser Loras actually dropped his sword.

Ser Balon could actually win this fight. Mother would live. 

Ser Balon immediately pressed his newfound advantage and took quick strides forward with Ser Loras blocking each blow with his shield as Ser Balon made sure to back Ser Loras away from the sword so he could not recover the blade. Ser Loras blocked the next blow with his shield and unsheathed a smaller two-foot-long short-sword from his belt. With such little range it would no doubt be extremely difficult for Ser Loras to do anything more than block and hope Ser Balon made a mistake. 

Ser Loras was almost up against the wall and soon he would have no room left to dance away from the mace, instead being forced to block every strike until eventually one landed and he died so that her mother could live. 

That time had come as when Ser Loras spun out of the way of the next swing from the mace that was aimed at his rib cage. He danced away from the blow but his back was up against the wall and he was unable to survive with fancy footwork any more. 

Myrcella looked away from the combat at the Queen sitting a few seats over, looking very much terrified that her brother would soon be dead. Tommen’s face was impassive as if he couldn’t care less if their mother lived or if his good-brother did. Mother looked ecstatic as she watched Ser Balon frantically hack at a very defensive Ser Loras and soon she would be free from the truthful accusations of treason. 

Ser Balon took another broad swing with his mace that Ser Loras barely managed to block in time with his heavily dented shield and the force behind the blow was finally enough to put a hole in the shield. All Ser Loras had now was half of a shield and a short-sword. Surely, this was the end of this wretched trial. 

Ser Balon took a wide swing, intent on caging in Ser Loras’s skull with the morning star and ending this fight in an instant. Rather than try to dodge the life-ending blow or block it with the short-sword, Ser Loras stepped forward into it and thrust forward with his blade at Ser Balon’s eyes. 

The metal shaft of the morning star banged against the helm of Ser Loras but Ser Loras struck true and his blade found the spot between Ser Balon’s eyes, the blade inserted narrowly through his visor. 

Myrcella’s joy turned into ashes in her mouth as Ser Balon fell to the ground with a sword jabbed in his visor. Myrcella was no warrior but even she knew that a strike between the eyes would kill him. Ser Loras also fell to the ground and Myrcella could only pray that he too was dead and the High Sparrow would declare that he had died first so mother won and would continue to live. She buried her head into her husband’s shoulder to scared to look and see the truth.

Her hopes were crushed when the crowd roared and the trumpets sounded. She knew Ser Loras had survived and mother would die. This was all her fault. She had caused this by telling Loreon to rat out Qyburn and caused Ser Robert to flee leaving her mother with that man protecting her. This was all her fault. 

“The gods have made their will known. Cersei Lannister, in the name of King Tommen of the House Baratheon, First of His Name, you are hereby sentenced to death.” The High Sparrow declared pompously. “She will be beheaded tomorrow morning.” 

Her mother did not cry, instead, she cackled as she heard she was going to die. “Jamie was the valonqar.” She screeched. “Why didn’t I see it? Jamie was the valonqar.” 

* * *

**I always planned on killing off Cersei here. Cersei is quite frankly a terrible main antagonist as if she was Queen, every single person in the seven-kingdoms would flock to Daenerys to see her on the throne since you really can't do worse than Cersei. It's much more interesting to have a more morally gray antagonist and not a Mad Queen. In case, you haven't realized it by now, this is not just a rehashing of cannon but a new story. If you want to see Cersei as a villain just watch season 7 and 8. In this, Tommen will remain King for the time being and the Tyrells will remain on his side, not Dany's. There are no Mad Queens or Kings, for that matter, in this story.**   
  
**I find it utterly ridiculous that while Cersei was imprisoned, the idea that Olenna would not use the time alone with him, to manipulate Tommen against Cersei. When Tommen is alone without his wife and mother, he's going to latch onto any contact and it's very plausible that she would poison him against Cersei for taking Margaery away from him. She also uses the familial connection and Myrcella's care towards Tommen to manipulate her as well into dooming her mother. As Myrcella is heir to House Lannister and the Westerlands, it makes sense that her authority regarding Lannister soldiers would trump Cersei's. Cersei is obviously never going to use the Gold Cloaks that are not loyal to her for something so important.**

**Tyrion's trial is one of the most memorable scenes in both the books and the show but they show surprisingly little detail in both of the oaths they say or how the proceedings actually go, it's primarily just summaries of the happenings. Also, a trial by the High Sparrow is bound to be different than when by Tywin Lannister. Do they have defendants for the accused in ASOIAF? I'm saying yes and no one was willing to serve as one for Tyrion or maybe it's a case by case thing. Regardless, Margaery has one because, after months of solitary confinement, it's hard to believe that Margaery would aptly be able to defend herself.**

**I realize in the books that the High Sparrow has septons and silent sisters presiding over the trials but in the show, he yammers on and on about how the lowest of the common folk are equal to a King and even him so from my perspective, it seems more logical for him to use those common folk as the jury for his trials.**

**I tried to follow Cersei's plan for the trial from the books but quite frankly her plan is moronic. She wants to offer an exiled prince the wall because she thinks he's a beggar? There are men who would rather die instead of go to the wall. Even if the wall was fine, why would he not try for a better deal from the Tyrells? Why would any of them for that matter? Even if he is guilty, he still has no reason to take her proposed deal. She succeeds in getting some of them to confess but not all. With the "deal" the Tyrells gave him, he gets to retain his freedom and marry "his love" a beautiful maiden who now has no value to anyone else in marriage proposals due to him supposedly sullying her honor.**

**I know modern literature likes to make it out like a hymen is some virginity detector but they commonly break before one has sexual relations. Horseback riding is one of the most common ways, in fact, and in medieval times it's absurd to believe that most highborn ladies don't have their hymens broken before marriage. As a rich and powerful family with their own Maester, they had to have already known her hymen was broken if it was. The Maester giving a timestamp on when it happens, as the Maesters are sworn to hold no loyalty to who they serve, should essentially be the final word on that evidence being used against her.**

**Torture is common place in medieval times and isn't really used to dismiss an accusation. Why it's dismissed here is because it's Qyburn, an ex-acolyte forbidden from practicing his forbidden craft who does such things to Watt. The fact that he dissected and experimented on Wat without a license basically that is so unforgivable. Also, there is common folk on the jury who are less predisposed towards torture so they'll be more likely to forgive it.** **I originally had Sandor killing Gregor as the faith's champion in the trial of combat but that seemed way too cliche and I still want Ser Gregor around for later. Qyburn being imprisoned for continuing to practice his craft and ordering Ser Gregor who is essentially a mindless zombie to rescue him lets me keep both of them in the story while having Cersei lose her trial by combat as I planned.**

**I intentionally left Margaery's trial extremely open-ended on if she's actually guilty or not in spite of the verdict. Is Jalabhar just taking the deal that does not get him the wall or death? Is Elinor trying to save Margaery's life or being honest? One of their key sources was the Maester of High Garden, did they win his loyalty? Did he lie about how and when Margaery's hymen broke? Does it even matter?**

**Cersei was never going to risk her trial not being one by combat. She does love her children and doesn't want any ugly truths to come out that could threaten them or make them doubt her children's legitimacy. She can be executed for fucking Lancel, Kettleblack, and even Jamie but none of those mean Robert isn't their father. She wasn't on trial for claiming Tommen is legitimate but for cheating on Robert. Jamie wouldn't ever face any punishment for fucking Cersei because in a medieval society, no one cares if the men sleep around, only if the females do.**

**Although does it matter if Tommen/Myrcella are legitimate? In the show, Cersei becomes Queen after the death of Tommen despite having no Baratheon blood. This means that the succession line of Westeros is next of kin not next of kin within the same house since that's the only reason Cersei could become Queen since as his mother she is his closest living kin. So does it matter if they're Robert's children as long as Joffrey is? I guess the bastard status stops them from having a claim so Tommen has to be legitimate. Myrcella does not, if Tommen were to hypothetically legitimize Myrcella as a Lannister and Jamie's son with Cersei, she would still be next in line for the throne as Tommen's closest kin until he has a child of his own.**

**We know that Ser Loras is extremely hot-headed. He recklessly attacks Dragonstone and nearly dies in the process in the books. He executes the King's Guard on duty when Renly dies without thinking twice about it. He has horrible anger management. When Cersei is imprisoned alongside Margaery, it's very possible he goes to the Sparrow and demands to be the champion against Cersei, wanting her to pay for her actions. He admits his decision to Olenna who would rather her grandson not die so she manipulates it so he won't face a champion he can not defeat. Kettleblack is a sellsword and can obviously be bought out of being her champion, Jamie was never a threat and once he resigns, Ser Loras fills the gap so she has only five choices. When they get rid of Ser Gregor, everyone is very defeatable by him.**

**GOT has an obsession with everyone using swords against armored opponents for some reason which is stupid since they're not very effective against them. Using a heavier mace that can actually dent armor as Ser Balon was in this is much more logical. Hopefully, the combat scene was decent, it was my first time ever writing one.**

**What about the Valonqar prophecy? You could argue it's fulfilled by Myrcella ordering Loreon to testify against her (Or Jamie in Cersei's mind) or you could argue it's fulfilled by Ser Loras (A younger brother) being the one to kill her champion. In truth, it doesn't matter at all since the Valonqar prophecy is outright false in the show as in episode two, Cersei reveals her and Robert had a trueborn child with dark hair that died as a babe which since the prophecy says she had three children and none of them are Robert's the prophecy is entirely invalidated by that decision by the showrunners.**

**There won't be an execution scene because her insane cackle at the trial result shows enough and Myrcella's emotional state at seeing her mother executed is much the same to her losing the trial. Also, executions are really boring to write and feel aniti-climactic. This seems like a better place to end the chapter. Cersei is actually dead, she was just beheaded off-screen.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, make sure to review and leave kudos if you enjoyed this chapter and subscribe so you don't miss any future updates. On Tuesday we go back to Ser Davos who is now Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and get to see his vision for the Watch.


	18. Davos III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't feel as if it was properly explained last chapter and since there were so many questions about it I'm going to elaborate on why Cersei being guilty of incest does not cost Tommen his throne. Essentially, everyone with power in the capital wants Tommen to remain on the throne for their own benefit. Tommen (Through his mother's manipulations) was the one who gave the faith militant the power to act and a new King would certainly try to revoke that so the High Sparrow wants him on the throne. The Tyrells want him on the throne for the obvious reason of Margaery being his Queen and him being easily manipulated. The Martells might try to dispose of him and crown Myrcella if that was possible but framing only Tommen as illegitimate would be difficult and for the time being, Myrcella is his heir since he has no children of his own. The Stormlanders know that they will never have a Baratheon by blood on the throne if they dispose of Tommen so they accept that having someone whose name is Baratheon is better than a Targaryen or whatever. The Riverlands are ruled by Walder Frey (Or Baelish in the books) and they need the Lannisters supporting them to maintain their power. The Boltons hold the North for now and a new king would likely be less friendly towards them so they stay beholden to Tommen. Tommen has made no effort to stop the raids by the Iron Islands or stop them from crowning their own Kings so why would they try to remove him without the support base to crown one of their own in his place. Lord Baelish might try something but he would be alone with only one Kingdom so he could do very little to force him out on his own. Removing Tommen has become easier for the later but right now, the time is not right for him to be disposed of so everyone important wants to let him keep his crown for the time being. 
> 
> I hope that clears a few things up, now on to the chapter.

Ser Davos Seaworth was now Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, never in a million years would he have imagined this turn of events. When he had decided to join the Night’s Watch after being nominated on the first night of the choosing, he had no expectation that he would be chosen. He had just wanted to help Jon and knew this was where he could do the most. 

Then Jon had spoken out on his behalf that first night and he had been the leading vote-getter for most the time since. Jon hadn’t spoken for him after that night and he had slowly lost the support of a good portion of the Targaryen loyalists as doubt set in about who he now claimed to be. He had gathered men of his own to vote for him with his own opinions and charisma so he hadn’t really lost much ground but Jon had decided that it had been long enough and he was ready to progress his plans so he ended the choosing prematurely. 

His decision or well maybe Sansa’s decision to light him on fire had a vast majority of the Night’s Watch bowing down to Jon and declaring him their King. That had led to Davos regaining all the Targaryen loyalists’ allegiance in the choosing as he was their King’s chosen candidate. More importantly, that had led to Ser Denner Frostfinger losing his entire support base as even those who hadn’t bowed had still been cowed enough to not risk the Dragon’s wrath by supporting a man who confessed to being a bystander to regicide. It was a dishonorable way to become Lord Commander but honor never won wars so Davos could really not care less. 

Ser Davos was even less certain now than ever before that he was the right man for the role of Lord Commander. He could hardly even read and write even less and now he was Lord Commander at a castle without a Maester. He needed to find a well-educated steward immediately or else his term as Lord Commander would be a very ineffectual one. He wondered what Jon was thinking when he decided to send Sam to study at the Citadel instead of just request a new Maester, that was something that Davos would rectify immediately. 

There was a knock on the door to his new office and Davos rose himself to go and let whoever was outside in, the small things he would have to do until he had his own steward were certainly an oddity. 

The rightful king, Jon Targaryen as he assumed he now finally wanted to be called stood outside his door. “Lord Commander,” Jon greeted him with a small smile and a slight dip of his head. 

“Your Grace,” Davos returned with a much deeper bow as he stepped aside to give his king entrance. 

Jon grimaced. “I suppose I have to get used to that now.” He said with a slight laugh. 

“I’m sure it is an adjustment, Your Grace.” Davos chuckled back. 

Jon entered and walked towards the desk that had once been his own. Ser Davos closed the door and turned to face his king. “I need the permission of the Lord Commander to send out ravens.” He said bluntly. 

“Of course, you have no need to ask, Your Grace.” Davos agreed immediately. “May I ask what for though?” Davos asked hesitantly, his curiosity getting the best of him. 

Jon frowned but answered anyway. “The Lord Commander is theoretically in charge of all outgoing messages from Castle Black, it’s not a rule actually practiced but it is still common courtesy to ask.” He ran a hand through his hair and hesitantly answered the question part of Davos’s statement. “I’m sending letters to all the Lords of the Northern Houses asking for their allegiance in my quest to take back the north and reclaim the Iron Throne for my House.” 

Davos nodded in understanding. “It’s finally time then, Your Grace?” 

Jon sighed. “Unfortunately, it has to be after my sister’s rash actions. I’m making my move now whether we are ready to or not since the news of my heritage being leaked means enemies will soon be at our door.” 

Davos nodded and fell silent. “Any advice for the new Lord Commander from the previous one?” 

Jon laughed. “That’s not something I ever expected you to say. Assume that if you do something your brothers don’t like that they will kill you for it.” Jon joked. “Keep your distance from your enemies.” 

Davos frowned at the poor advice, it must be hard for Jon to think back on his time as Lord Commander after being betrayed and murdered. “When do you leave?” He asked changing the subject in an attempt to salvage the conversation. 

Jon sighed. “We leave at first light tomorrow. We’ll march south with the wildlings to retake the North. Unfortunately, I can’t afford to stay any longer we have to strike quickly before the Boltons and Lannisters realize what I’m planning. I wish I could be here for Thorne’s execution but I have no say in the matter.”

Davos fell silent for a moment. “I hate to ask this but is there any chance you could leave some wildlings here to man the wall? We’re seriously undermanned and we need to have men stationed at all of the castles if we’re to aptly defend it from the Others when they march on the wall.” That was the intention when Jon had let the wildlings settle the gift, their warriors were supposed to help defend the wall. 

Jon shook his head. “No. I need all the men we can get right now, even with all of the wildlings our fighting force is less than half of that which we expect the Boltons to have.” Davos was not surprised by the refusal but he had hoped that Jon could spare at least one-hundred men for him. “I will, however, promise that when we defeat the Boltons army I’ll send all prisoners that have no value as hostages up to help defend the wall. So expect a massive influx of men in the coming months.” 

Davos nodded his agreement with Jon’s offer that he really had no choice but to accept. “I wish you good fortune in the wars to come, Your Grace.” 

They fell silent once more before Davos spoke once again. “Do you happen to know of any stewards who are literate? I’m afraid my reading and writing skills are rather subpar for a Lord Commander.” 

Jon laughed aloud. “Bowen Marsh would be the obvious choice but for obvious reasons, he’s not a plausible choice. Sam is at the Citadel so he’s not really an option either. Satin is somewhat-literate but I’m afraid there is not much else currently available at Castle Black.” 

Davos nodded and decided to send for Satin as soon as Jon left. “Why did you send Sam to the Citadel instead of just requesting a new Maester?” He didn’t speak it aloud but he wondered if it was just Jon showing favoritism to his close friend. 

“I needed someone who believed in the Others existence to research how we can defeat them.” Jon hesitated and seemed to war with himself about if he should expand on his answer but eventually sighed and expanded on his answer. “I sent Sam and Gilly with Mance’s babe to the citadel to protect the child from the red witch in case she decided that she needed to sacrifice him for his King’s Blood. Perhaps, if I hadn’t done so, Shireen wouldn’t have been sacrificed and I would still be dead.” 

Davos pushed away the conflicting emotions on how he wished that the baby had died instead of Shireen, the child was innocent, they didn’t deserve to die and without Shireen’s sacrifice Jon would be dead and they would all die when the Others came and the seven kingdoms were unprepared. Perhaps, Shireen would have been taken captive by the Boltons and they would be torturing her right now. Davos shook his head. He couldn’t dwell on what if’s. He definitely did need a new Maester, however, and he resolved to request one immediately. 

Jon turned and headed back for the door then paused. “In a few weeks, Ser Jorah Mormont will arrive at Castle Black on behalf of my aunt, Queen Daenerys Targaryen in order to treat with me. Inform him and him only that I am at the Dreadfort and to head there in order to negotiate with me. Provide him a fresh mount and food for his journey if needed.” 

Davos wanted to ask how Jon knew that Queen Daenerys was sending someone to treat with him and how he knew who specifically that was but Davos had served under Stannis long enough to know it was not his place to question the King. “I will do so, Your Grace.” Davos agreed 

Jon smiled. “Thank you, Lord Commander. I will leave you to your business, I’m sure you have lots to do now that you’re Lord Commander and I have letters to send.” Davos bowed and Jon left without another word. 

Davos sighed and sat at his desk. He too had letters to send informing all of the Lord Paramounts of the Kingdoms that he was now the 999th Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, he was sure that Stannis’s hand being Lord Commander was sure to go over swimmingly in the capital.

-

Ser Davos looked down at all the builders in the watch with some disgust. The builders were a miniscule portion of the Night’s Watch with only eight and thirty members. Davos understood why there were so few when they previously only needed to maintain three castles until Jon made it four but now with Davos wanting to restore all of the castles along the wall to defend it when the time came, he needed probably ten times as many builders. Hopefully, Jon would win his war quickly so he could send more people to defend the wall. 

“Thank you, all for coming,” Davos said in greeting as he stood up and addressed all of the builders he had called together. “The builders are maybe the most essential part of the watch and in recent years they’ve been largely neglected and fallen to the wayside. I mean to change that.”

“Undoubtedly this order is understaffed and with the previous first builder being on death’s row for his treason, we are without any chain of command in this order. I’m afraid that I do not know enough to fairly appoint a new first builder in Yarwyck’s place. Which is why I propose that amongst the other members of your order, you choose his successor yourself.” 

The room did not reply for a long while so Davos encouraged them. “Any volunteers?” 

An older and stout man stood up. “I would like to be the first builder.” He declared pompously. 

A man with a wooden leg laughed. “Can it, Kegs. You can barely even follow instructions. Yet alone give them.” 

Kegs rounded on him. “And who is Boot? You?” He sneered. “You can’t even work properly. You’re just a glorified steward.”

The man Davos supposed must be named Boot smiled. “No, not me. The only choice for first builder is Othell Yarwyck. Despite his treason we need him. He is literate and has experience commanding us, the rest of us would be ineffectual leaders of the order. He knows more of the state of the wall than any of us. We just do what we are told, he figures out what needs to be done.” 

Davos frowned surely they couldn’t really want to follow the man who had killed their previous Lord Commander, someone who they had just bowed down to only yesterday. Apparently Davos wasn’t the only one with that train of thought. “He killed our Lord Commander, he killed our King.” Halder protested vehemently. 

“He is no king of mine.” Someone spat and there were a few cheers in agreement at that statement. Evidentally, their decision to kneel had been one borne out of fear but now that Jon was gone, they were no longer afraid of speaking against him. The worst part was as the Night’s Watch swore no part in the wars of man, Davos could not chastise them for their disrespect. 

“It’s still treason,” Another man argued back. “He was our Lord Commander.” 

“It is.” Boot acknowledged with a slight dip of his head. “Regardless, of what he did in the past, we have to put the watch first and we need Yarwyck.” 

They were getting nowhere in choosing a first builder, perhaps he would talk to some of them in private and choose the first builder himself if this persisters. Davos cleared his throat loudly and redirected their attention back towards him. “It appears we will not yet choose the first builder today, regardless we still have things we need to discuss.” 

“The Night’s Watch only has men posted at four garrisons currently, with the Others fast approaching we need to have the entire wall defended. To do that, we need builders to repair the damages done to them and make them inhabitable. We also need builders to work on siege weapons to place along the wall in case of an attack from the North or South.” 

A burly man that Davos did not recognize laughed at that. “Even if it only took one man to do each task, we still would not have enough builders to restore all of the castles. This is why an outsider should have never been made Lord Commander.” 

Davos frowned slightly. “I’m aware of that Ser. I do not mean to restore all of the castles at once, we do not have the men to do so. I need to know which ones are the closest to inhabitable so we can prioritize those spots. We do need more builders which is why in the coming days, I plan to transfer stewards into the order of builders for the time being.” Davos knew that was likely a controversial opinion, once your order was chosen it was supposed to be for life but Davos had to bend and even break the rules in order to survive the winter. 

“Who here is familiar with the status of the other castles and which ones are the closest to functionable?” Davos asked once more. 

The builders were silent for a moment before once again Boot spoke for them. “Othell Yarwyck might know.” 

Davos resisted the urge to groan at Boot’s stubborn loyalty to a traitor. “Anyone else?”

Halder shuffled his feet and his boots scraped the floor making a horrible screech. “Yarwyck is a traitor and deserves to die but he is the only one aware of the conditions of all the castles. That was his job as first builder not ours.”

Davos sighed. “Satin!” He addressed his new steward. “Go the Ice cells and request for Othell Yarwyck to be brought here.” He would not forgive Yarwyck’s transgressions but he would use his knowledge to do his duty.” 

It was only a few minutes later that Yarwyck was escorted in to see them. His arms were bound in fetters and it was clear that he was still a prisoner despite them needing his expertise. 

“Othell Yarwyck.” Davos greeted him coldly as Yarwyck took a seat at the table closest to Davos.

“Ser Davos,” Yarwyck said plainly. “I never imagined you would be the next Lord Commander.” 

Davos chuckled slightly in spite of himself. “Neither did I.” He regained his bearings and immediately got to business. “I hear you’re the only one who knows the conditions of the other castles and what it would take to repair them.”

“I am.” Yarwyck conceded. 

“Which castles would take the least effort to restore?”

Yarwyck hesitated, debating on if he should try to leverage the knowledge to save his life before shaking his head and responding. “Greyguard is not far from being inhabitable. Queens Gate is also not far from being usable. On the eastern side of the wall, I would say that Long Barrow is closest to being functionable although it would still take considerably more work than Queens Gate and Greyguard.” 

Davos nodded. Queensgate was not at all a priority as it was the closest castle west from Castle Black but Greyguard and Long Barrow were a good distance from the other manned castles and would make it much easier to defend the wall when the time came. With the Nightfort already playing a similar role on the western side of the wall, Long Barrow had to be the priority. “How many men would it take to restore Long Barrow within a moon?” He asked aloud.

Yarwyck froze and wiggled his fingers as he thought about it. “Probably all of us and even then I’m not sure it’s all that feasible.” He answered honestly. “We don’t have enough builders in order to restore the castle at an accelerated pace and it is a few day ride from here and we’ll need to move supplies back and forth. I’m also the only one who knows the extent of the damage there and even then it’s been a year since I last assessed it and the wildlings have raided the wall since so I couldn’t say if it’s still in the same condition.” 

Davos sighed internally. It appeared that they might really need Othell Yarwyck after all. Could he really forgive him for killing his Lord Commander and King? Would he ever feel safe if he let someone who already killed his Lord Commander off the hook? Would it encourage more people to undermine him? The answer to all of those questions was unfortunately yes. He needed the experience Yarwyck had as first builder more than he needed to avenge the Lord Commander. He was positive that Edd would hate him for this and regret nominating him but Davos had to do what was best for the watch not himself or anyone else, not even his King. Still, he could punish Yarwyck. He needed him alive, but that didn’t stop him from punishing him at all. 

“Tell me, Yarwyck, what hand do you hold a sword with?” Davos asked quietly.

Othell Yarwyck blinked owlishly not understand why he was asking such a question but still answered it. “My right m’ lord.” 

Davos stood, unsheathed his new sword, and brought it down on Yarwyck’s right wrist that was resting on the table. 

Yarwyck screamed in pain and cursed Davos’s name. Davos ignored him and spoke softly but menacingly to him. “It appears the Night’s Watch still has need of your services so I can not take your head for your treason. This time, you only lose your hand for your treason but do anything to betray the watch ever again and it will be your head that winds up on a spike.” 

Yarwyck glared at him but dipped his head. “Thank you, for your mercy, m’ lord.” He hissed through gritted teeth as he tried to refrain from screaming out in pain. 

Davos turned back towards his steward, Satin. “Take him to get medical assistance, it wouldn’t do for him to die now. We need him.” 

Satin nodded and hauled Yarwyck up by his non-injured arm as he dragged him out of the room. 

Ser Davos turned back towards the other builders who were looking at him differently. Some were angered but whether that was over his maiming of Yarwyck or him sparing Yarwyck’s life, it was hard for Davos to say. Others looked impressed by how he handled it and a few more looked sick when they took in the sight of the severed hand lying on the table Yarwyck had been at. 

“Othell Yarwyck will remain first builder for the time being. All of you, are to prepare to head to Long Barrow to restore the castle so we can restock it with men once it is complete. You are not to leave yet as once I meet with the Stewards you will have new recruits to transfer into your order. If anyone overhears Yarwyck or anyone else planning to betray the Night’s Watch you are to send word to me immediately. 

“Yarwyck will remain first builder due to his understanding of the endeavor but Boot is in charge of any disciplinary issues while you are away from an occupied castle. 

“Thank you, Lord Commander.” Boot replied with a slight nod to show he accepted the responsibility. 

“You are dismissed,” Davos declared, and immediately the men all stood up. “Go and carry out your assignments with haste.” 

Davos watched them leave until he was alone in the room. Davos sighed in relief, that one was finally over now all that was left was to meet with the other two orders. Surely, they couldn’t go much worse, right?

-

The meeting with the Stewards was surprisingly pleasant. A number of them had been eager to be reassigned to the builders and he ended up having too many volunteers. He had re-assigned almost one-hundred men from the largest order and had ended up sending a smaller contingent of men to Greyguard to repair that castle along with the much larger group that would head down to Long Barrow led by Othell Yarwyck. 

Illiteracy was a serious issue among the members of the Night’s Watch at the present time. The complete lack of literate members almost made Ser Davos pardon Bowen Marsh as well but he didn’t need him like he did Yarwyck, Marsh just made life easier for him. Literacy was not a requirement they needed all of their men to meet it just made things simpler and quicker, as long as every castle had at least one literate steward they could theoretically function, and while they were lacking they weren’t in that dire of straits yet. 

The stewards had always been the largest order in the Night’s Watch and that had not changed even after Davos’s aggressive re-assignments. They just now had 200 members compared to 150 builders and rangers, rather than the 300+ they had previously. 

The meeting with the Rangers had gone smoothly enough as he gave them their new assignments. The frequency and locations the Rangers went to had dropped drastically as right now defending the wall was more important than exploring an abandoned wasteland, bereft of all human life with the Free Folk now being south of the wall. Without Dragon Glass or Valyrian Steel, it was foolhardy to engage the wights or the Others so they mostly had to leave them alone, just spying on their actions from a somewhat safe distance. 

Davos had re-assigned many of the literate rangers to the stewards and builders, something that none of them were very happy about but it needed to be done. He had also taken a significant portion of the rangers and given them the job of training all the members in combat as everyone needed to be proficient when the Others marched on the wall. He also set a portion of them to training with aiming and reloading ballistas as he assumed they would play a crucial part in their defense of the wall. 

Suffice to say not very many people were happy with him. Oddly enough, Ser Denner had supported his decisions and because of that they were accepted fairly easily. Hence why he had asked Ser Denner to stay behind, he had thought Ser Denner would be difficult to work with and he would need to reassign him to another castle to keep him from plotting his demise or at least not stopping a mutiny as he had with Jon. 

“Ser Denner,” Davos said in greeting once they were alone and gestured for him to take the seat across from him. 

“You wanted to speak to me, Lord Commander?” Ser Denner said as he did as Davos had bidded.

Davos nodded. “I did. I was surprised to see you supporting the reshuffling of the watch and the lack of…” Davos trailed off not wanting to seem rude. 

“You expected me to oppose and undermine you because I let King Jon die.” Ser Denner concluded. 

“I did,” Davos admitted.

Ser Denner sighed audibly. “I didn’t let the king die for personal reasons, I did it for the watch. I didn’t think you were what’s best for the watch for the same reason I didn’t think the King was the best choice. Through no fault of your own, you will find few allies outside of the wall. You were hand to Stannis that makes it hard for you to find allies in the capital and from the Crown. The King was believed to be the son of a traitor and the brother of a usurper.”

Davos nodded in understanding but raised an eyebrow. “So what changed?”

“King Jon decided not to stay dead and proclaimed himself as a Targaryen in such a public manner.” Ser Denner chuckled. “After that display, King Tommen is extremely unlikely to send us any aid since we harbored King Jon for so long unless we delivered his head on a spike and even then he might just grow a new one.” 

“Aid from King Tommen is impossible now so we might as well hedge our bets on King Jon and pray he wins the throne so we can survive the winter. I’ve always been willing to do what it takes in order for the world to survive the coming winter, just what it takes has now shifted with Jon Waters proclaiming himself as the Targaryen heir.” 

“I like what you plan on doing and it’s not too dissimilar from what I would have done as Lord Commander, the defense of the wall should be our first priority above all else right now. My methods would have been a bit different but it is a smart decision to re-assign members to areas of higher priority especially the rangers having a much lesser role without the wildlings. 

Davos nodded in acceptance with the logical reasoning and came to a decision. “You’re a good commander, Ser Denner. I plan to name you castellan of Long Barrow once it is inhabitable.”

“I’m honored Lord Commander Davos.” Ser Denner said gratefully before chuckling again. “I’m surprised I’m not being put in a noose for my part in King Jon’s demise.” 

Davos frowned slightly. “While you and all the other men who participated in the mutiny do probably deserve death for your treason we, unfortunately, cannot afford to execute a dozen men for it. The watch has to come first before avenging the King.”

Ser Denner nodded in agreement. “I’m presuming that only Yarwyck, Marsh and Thorne are being executed for the crime then?” 

Davos shook his head in regret. “Unfortunately we need Yarwyck too much to execute him. He lost a hand for his crime but will keep his life. Ser Alliser Thorne and Bowen Marsh will be hung tonight.” 

Ser Denner was taken aback. “I’m impressed, Ser Davos. I thought your loyalty to the King would win out over the good of the watch. It’s the right decision to spare him, the same one I would have made. You have my support, Lord Commander.” 

Davos did not trust Ser Denner and probably never would but he appreciated the support all the same. He let the unspoken he would also spare Thorne and Marsh bit stay unsaid. He needed allies within the watch, garrisoning the other castles and if Ser Denner was willing to respect and encourage others to accept his decisions then he would gladly take the help. Despite the disastrous showing on the final night of the choosing, Ser Denner was well respected and oft-listened to amongst the watch, and with KingJon gone he would gain a following again as fear of him no longer acted as a deterrent. If Ser Denner was truly an ally then he would be a massive boon and help to quell an uprising against him like there was against Jon. 

“I’d argue that loyalty to King Jon is what is best for the watch and the realm.” Davos countered calmly. “He knows the threat we are dealing with and has already sworn to send all prisoners he captures to the Wall. With him on the throne we can actually survive the winter.” 

Ser Denner nodded. “True. We better pray that he wins then.” 

“Aye.” Davos agreed easily. They certainly had better pray for that or else it wouldn’t just be the end of the Night’s Watch but life itself. 

  
  


-

The time had finally arrived and Davos would admit he wished it hadn’t. He was about to execute Ser Alliser Thorne and Bowen Marsh for their treason. Davos understood that they both deserved death for killing his King and was glad that they would die but he would admit that he wasn’t entirely comfortable executing them himself. He had never enjoyed watching executions when he served with Stannis and he had never served as an executioner before. Still, he had to be the one to do it or else he would never gain the respect of the men who he now called his brothers. As unpleasant as it might feel, it was necessary. 

“Brothers!” He called out to the crowd of all the men who served in the Night’s Watch that had flocked in the courtyard to witness the executions. “We stand here today because five of our own brothers have committed treason! We are here because they chose to murder their Lord Commander that they were sworn to serve. We all stand here as witnesses for the execution of our brothers Bowen Marsh and Ser Alliser Thorne.”

Ser Davos walked towards the platform that held Bowen Marsh who was visibly trembling at the thought of his pending execution. “Bowen Marsh,” He addressed the sniveling coward. “Have you any last words, now is the time.” 

Bowen Marsh whimpered pathetically. “Please Lord Command, have mercy. I made a mistake. I can still serve you- I can still serve the watch. Please don’t kill me,” He begged. “You spared Yarwyck, surely you can spare me as well. I can still be useful. I wasn’t even the one-” 

Davos snarled and kicked the box out from underneath him, tired of hearing him winge. The noose tightened around his neck and the traitor hung suspended over the ground, flopping weakly as he tried to prevent the end. His face was purple by the time his body finally gave out. 

He then turned to Ser Alliser Thorne and stood in front of the box that he stood on, which prevented him from death for a short time. “Ser Alliser Thorne,” He greeted with some anger in his voice. “Have you any last words, this is the time.” 

Ser Alliser had not taken his imprisonment after Jon’s resurrection well. He was gaunt and forlorn. His face looked like it had aged a hundred years in the last month. Davos felt no pity for the man, he deserved to suffer after killing his Lord Commander and King. 

Ser Alliser swallowed audibly, a sound he was sure that everyone heard in the courtyard. “I conspired against and killed my Lord Commander.” He spoke loud enough that everyone else could hear him speak. “I committed treason of the highest order. I not only killed my commanding officer but my King.” 

“Long live King Jon of House Targaryen. I killed him but the dragon rose up from the ashes. I killed my King and for that I choose death.” Ser Alliser said resolutely

Then, to everyone’s surprise, Ser Alliser jumped backward off of the crate holding him, choosing to hang himself now rather than wait for Davos to do it. Davos watched dispassionately as he hung there suspended in the air, twitching, and flailing before finally the lack of air got to him and his movements ceased. 

Davos turned away from them and looked over to Satin. “Take them down and burn their bodies,” He said quietly before stepping back inside, and away from the silent crowd staring at him. 

-

“Lord Commander,” Satin said as he entered the office that Ser Davos now called his own after being elected as Lord Commander almost three weeks ago. “There is a man here searching for King Jon. He claims he was sent as an envoy by Daenerys Targaryen.” 

Davos blinked. He had forgotten about the envoy that Jon had claimed his aunt would be sending three weeks ago. A Ser Jorah Mormont, he had thought the envoy had been closer to the Castle if Jon knew who exactly it was already. Somehow Jon had sources in Meereen where Queen Daenerys was rumored to be with her dragons in order to know so far in advance who she was sending or perhaps he had just guessed who it would be but he had sounded so certain that Davos doubted it was the latter. 

“Is it Ser Jorah Mormont?” Davos asked curiously. He would see the man either way but he would only inform him of Jon’s plans if he was who Jon claimed he would be. 

“He only introduced himself as Jorah.” Satin replied with a quirked eyebrow in askance that Davos ignored.

“Send him in to see me,” Davos ordered and Satin left the room without another word uttered back to him. 

Satin soon re-emerged with an older gentleman with a burly build and a thick black beard with very little hair on the top of his head. He carried a longsword on his hip with a pair of daggers laced on the other one. A former slaver Davos knew, he had been banished from the North but Daenerys Targaryen had apparently pardoned him and Jon planned on honoring her pardon for whatever reason. 

“You are Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch?” The man that Davos assumed was Ser Jorah Mormont asked as his eyes appraised his form. 

“I am, Lord Davos Seaworth.” Davos confirmed and gestured for the man to take his seat across from him. 

“I am here on behalf of Her Grace, Queen Daenerys Targaryen to meet with her nephew, Prince Jon Targaryen.” The man told him as he ignored the seat that Ser Davos had offered him.

Davos did not reply to his request. “You are Ser Jorah Mormont?” Davos asked the man. 

He blinked in surprise and lightly shook his head. “I was.” 

Davos frowned slightly at the past tense address but figured that his Queen had just given him a new name or something. “ _ King  _ Jon told me to expect your arrival before he left three weeks ago.” He made sure to put extra emphasis on the word King. Even if Jon was a bastard he was still the only Targaryen male with a claim to the throne and well it was unfair, a female had never inherited the throne and that would work in Jon’s favor in his campaign. 

Jorah’s jaw dropped. “ _ Prince  _ Jon knew I was coming?” He asked in disbelief. 

Davos nodded. “He did. The King told me to tell you and you alone that he was marching on the Dreadfort and that you could rendezvous with him there to discuss terms. He too is interested in an alliance with his aunt.” 

Ser Jorah nodded and stuck out his hand “It appears that I must leave then, I have a mission to carry out. It was a pleasure to meet you, Lord Commander.” 

Davos stuck out his own hand and took Ser Jorah’s meaty palm in his grip. “Nightfall is almost here, you’re welcome to stay for the night and set out in the morning.” That was what his King had ordered after all. Davos didn't like the man but he would not forget his necessities. 

Ser Jorah smiled. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to infringe on your hospitality.” 

“I’m sure, the King insisted that I provide you with a fresh mount and food for your journey if you need any of it, this should fall under that umbrella and even if it didn’t, I would still insist. We have more than enough room for you to stay.” Davos smiled, completely unsincere, and let go of Ser Jorah’s sweaty palm. 

Ser Jorah finally took the seat that was offered to him. “How did Prince Jon know that I was coming? Why would he vouch for a former slaver?” He asked in clear confusion.

Davos wondered the same himself. “I couldn’t say. You’ll have to ask him yourself when you see him, I only do as he had commanded of me.” 

Ser Jorah fell silent for a moment. “My father was Lord Commander when I was last in Westeros. Did you serve under him? Do you know how he died?” 

Ser Davos chuckled. “I’m afraid not, I’ve only been in the watch for a month myself.” 

Ser Jorah stared at him. “Surely, you jape. How were you ever chosen as Lord Commander?”

Ser Davos chuckled once more. “King Jon was lit on fire at the choosing so everyone threw their support behind his candidate.” 

Ser Jorah leaned forward. “The rumors are true? He really is unburnt? He really died and came back?” 

Davos smiled softly. “Aye. He did. I could hardly believe it when I first saw it myself. We thought he had woken up as a wight when he woke up in his funeral pyre but he was still himself somehow alive and unburnt after being dead for seven days.” 

“How did that happen?” Ser Jorah pressed. 

Davos sighed and glanced out the window. “Lord Stannis Baratheon had a red priestess that helped him in his quest to claim the throne. When he marched south of her to take Winterfell from the Bolton’s, his priestess convinced him that a great sacrifice would be needed to win the battle.” Davos clenched his jaw and balled his one good hand into a fist. “He sacrificed his own daughter, the Princess Shireen.” Davos tried to keep calm but he couldn’t stop his anger from coming across in his words. 

“Stannis lost that battle and the red witch fled back here to Castle Black. When King Jon was murdered in a mutiny she attempted to bring him back using some of her blood magic. We had thought she failed but when he was bound to his funeral pyre, he rose up out of it alive even after seven days spent dead. He burnt the bitch alive for her murder of the Princess Shireen.” 

Jorah nodded breathlessly. “Only death can pay for life.” He whispered to himself. 

Davos nodded in agreement. “That is what Jon said the moment he found out who brought him back.”

Ser Jorah nodded before changing the subject once more. “So, tell me about Prince Jon? I’ve been sent to get a measure of who he is.”

Davos smiled and began to tell Ser Jorah about the best man he knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a total of nine builders listed on the ASOIAF wiki, two of whom are dead. None of those members come from a noble house and as such are likely illiterate considering the time period. There are thirty-five stewards and sixty-four rangers. The builders are clearly undermanned and with the complete lack of wildlings beyond the wall they are probably the most important order. In the past maybe the priority was venturing beyond the wall was a priority but the only thing that is out there still are the Others and their army. Seeing as how they can't kill the Others, sending anything more than the occasional scout to track their movements is a suicide mission. The watch has to focus on holding the wall when the Others march on them with their army. Hence the priority on rebuilding the wall from Davos. 
> 
> The Stewards are largely a luxury for the ones ill-suited for combat and the Rangers don't have to be half that size when they only serve as scouts and hunters now. Davos re-assigns a number of men to bolster the weakest and most important unit since he understands that if even one spot in the wall is unmanned they could easily fall. 
> 
> Davos leaving Yarwyck alive is a terrible choice he's forced to make but he has to prioritize the watch over his loyalty to Jon. As the First Builder he's going to have knowledge of techniques and have experience teaching his craft. When there are over a hundred transfers that has to be prioritized. They need maximum competency above all else as not just their lives are at stake but every life in all of Westeros. 
> 
> Writing executions sucks but this one needed to happen. Ser Alliser was a staunch Targaryen loyalist and finding out he murdered the last male Targaryen was always going to have a huge effect on him. He already felt slightly guilty for betraying his Lord Commander since he holds the Night's Watch in such esteem and treats his vows seriously. Finding out that the same Lord Commander he killed was also his King is probably enough for him to become suicidal. 
> 
> Next update will be on Friday and it'll be Jon's POV as he marches south to take the Dreadfort.


	19. Jon VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon marches south to take a castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the people who continuously ask when Davos will remember that he has a wife and children, I feel the need to remind you that this is based off of the show primarily. In the show, he only has one son, who died in the battle of the Blackwater. His wife might be alive or she might not, I couldn't say considering he never mentions her and continues to linger by Stannis and then Jon's side and later joins Bran's council rather than return to his family. If Davos does still have a living wife, then it is clearly a loveless marriage or else she would have been mentioned at some point.

Jon smiled as Sansa entered his tent to share her life with him for the first time since that disastrous last encounter where she had tried to manipulate him, Jon had snapped at her then went to see Daenerys and sulk only to find out that she somehow knew about his resurrection and who his parents were. That had been an unexpected development, to say the least. 

At first, once he was done conversing with his Daenerys he had panicked and sprinted towards the ravenry where he was assured that they were still on lock-down. He had then headed to the Free Folk camps and checked in with his wargs to see if the Boltons or anyone else knew of his heritage but they still did not know- if they had he would have moved immediately, but even now he had heard nothing. Somehow, Varys had found out but no one else knew yet which made little sense given how Meereen was much further from the wall than Winterfell or even King’s Landing yet that was somehow the case. Varys had to have sources amongst the Free Folk which was a terrifying thought as it made it all the harder to trust them or anyone really if even they would sell his secrets to the spider. The spider was an impossibility, everyone knew that. He had always had a way of finding out the most secure of secrets and apparently Jon’s resurrection was no exception to that. Perhaps it was magic of some sort.

Jon was exceedingly grateful that Lord Varys now served his Daenerys in Meereen and not King Tommen anymore as if the Lannisters were to have found out that early in the game, they would be doomed. Even now they might be doomed after Sansa’s impatience had cost them the element of surprise and thrown his previous plan to the wayside. Now they were stuck with a more conventional war strategy and they would probably lose even if they only were fighting the Boltons’ northern forces. Or Jon would reveal his trump card if the need arose. 

They had sent out letters to all the Lords of the Northern Houses requesting aid but he doubted anyone would show up for him, it was too risky to side with a usurper in a failed rebellion. Most the Houses would refuse to participate and Jon wouldn’t bother trying to change their mind, he knew it would be a fruitless endeavor. Even if they did offer to come Jon would have been hesitant to accept their aid and let them into his camps. They were likely all spies and traitors who would only get him killed. He would earn their loyalty when he defeated the Boltons. 

Sansa smiled and curtsied. “Your Grace.” She chimed sweetly in greeting and then took a seat on the floor beside him. 

“You can still call me Jon, you know.” Jon replied with a slight smile of his own. In spite of her foolishness, they were still the last of the Starks and Jon didn't want them to be at each other's throats. 

Sansa frowned slightly. “I owe you an apology, Jon. I let my desire for revenge get the best of me and screwed up all of your plans.” 

Jon nodded in agreement. “You did.” He then sighed audibly. “That’s all in the past now, it does us no good to look back and get lost. Let’s just endeavor to do better in the future. We need to be able to trust each other.” 

“I do want to trust you, Jon, it's just hard after everything.” 

Jon smiled and placed a hand on her knee. “I completely understand. It’s certainly hard to trust anyone after all that’s happened since we left Winterfell.” 

“You said you wanted to hear about what happened at Joffrey’s wedding? How I escaped?” Sansa asked after a moment of awkward silence. 

Jon nodded. “I did.” After a moment he added some false platitudes at the end. “Of course, if you aren’t ready to share it then I won’t force you.” 

Sansa shook her head. “I do. It’s just hard.” 

Jon nodded and took her hand in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. 

“I was unknowingly involved in a plot to murder Joffrey orchestrated by Lord Baelish and Lady Olenna Tyrell.” Sansa began to explain. 

Jon blinked in surprise. Lady Tyrell had not been who he would have suspected of murdering Joffrey, not at his wedding to her granddaughter. That was valuable information they could use to hopefully drive a wedge between the Tyrells and the crown. 

“Ser Dontos Hollard showed up drunk to a tourney and was unable to ride as a result. Joffrey wanted him to be drowned in wine for his folly.” Sansa said with some disgust. “I plead for his life and instead he was made a fool in the King’s Court.” 

Sansa shook her head and Jon squeezed her hand gently to reassure her. “In my foolishness, I thought that he actually cared for me and wanted to repay me for sparing his life but he was just using me. He gave me a beautiful amethyst necklace that he claimed was a family heirloom and I wore it to Joffrey’s wedding.” 

“One of the Amethysts was a fake, filled with poison. During the wedding, someone removed it from my neck and dropped it in Joffrey’s chalice. He died and Lord Tyrion was framed as Ser Dontos ferreted me away in the confusion. The Tyrells wanted Tyrion framed so I could marry Willas and give them control of the north but Littlefinger wanted me to himself.” 

Sansa heaved a deep shuddering breath and Jon squeezed her hand again. There were tears in the corner of her eyes and she looked to be on the verge of breaking down. A part of Jon wanted to stop her and protect her from all of this but he needed to know so he did nothing. “Littlefinger was in love with my mother,” Sansa explained. “After her death, he desired me in her place. He took me to the Vale with him where he had wed my Aunt Lysa and claimed me as his bastard daughter.”

She smiled sadly. “At first I had thought he truly cared about me because of my mother. He was sweet and kind and did everything to protect me. I looked up to him and trusted him.” Sansa laughed bitterly. “I was a fool. Littlefinger just lusted after me, he kissed me and Aunt Lysa saw.”

Sansa sniffled. “Aunt Lysa confronted me and raged at me for stealing  _ her dear sweet _ Petyr from her just like my mother had. She called me and mother whores and threatened to have me thrown through the moon door for trying to steal Petyr.” Jon stiffened at the thought of Sansa falling to her death. “Littlefinger came in and comforted my aunt assuring her that he only ever loved one person and then pushed her through the moon door claiming he only loved my mother. We lied and claimed she committed suicide but I killed her. I killed my aunt.” Sansa sobbed.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Jon protested. “Lord Baelish killed your aunt, not you. He kissed you and he pushed her to her death, not you.”

Sansa nodded but Jon knew she did not agree with him and blamed herself. Jon hugged her gently and for a moment he held her in silence before she pulled away and resumed her tale. “I was so stupid, I thought that his decision to murder my aunt proved that he loved me and was a hero. I trusted him, looked up to him, and enjoyed being around him.” She clenched her hands into fists at her side. “He betrayed me and sold me to the Boltons.” She spat venomously. 

Jon blinked owlishly in surprise. “Why?” Sansa came him a puzzling look so he elaborated. “What did he gain by doing that? What was his end goal?”

Sansa laughed. “He wants the same thing that all men do. Power and to sit on the Iron Throne with me as his Queen.” 

Jon laughed. “I can assure you that all men do not want that.” 

Sansa hit his shoulder playfully. “Every man but you.” She amended. 

Jon was sure that Baelish did want that but how did selling Sansa accomplish that? He voiced that idea aloud. “How does selling you to the Boltons give him power?   


Sansa looked at him as if he was stupid. “Chaos is a ladder, he would always say. By giving me to the Boltons he destroyed their alliance with the crown. He would sow discord in the capital which is an opportunity for him to move up in station. He likely expected me and Ramsay to have a child who no one could contest their claim to the North. When my husband was to mysteriously die, I would rule the north in my sons name. He already basically controls the Vale through young Robyn and ideally, I would have had the North. With two of the largest kingdoms in his grasp and possibly the Riverlands as well through the Tully side of the family, and him being Lord of Harrenhal he would be in a very powerful position. He underestimated Ramsay’s cruelty or simply just didn’t care about how he would treat me.” 

Jon’s jaw clenched. “What did that bastard do to you?” He growled. He quickly remembered it was a sensitive topic and calmed down. “You don’t have to answer if you aren’t ready.” He reassured her. 

Sansa gave him a sad smile. “I know. I want to.” 

Jon gripped her hand and squeezed it tightly. 

“Ramsay was awful from the beginning, the moment I met him I should have known that this was a mistake. He had The-” 

She was cut off by Varamyr Sixskins entering the tent. “Crow!” He huffed. “There is urgent news that you need to hear immediately.”

Jon frowned. Sansa was finally opening up to him so of course, something would come up now. He was torn between doing his duty as King and dealing with the urgent news or being the brother that his sister needed and that he wanted to be. 

Sansa took the decision out of his hands as she squeezed his hand once more and then let go and left the tent, the moment completely gone. Jon knew it would likely be some time before she opened up like that again.

“What is it?” Jon snapped somewhat harsher than he had intended. 

“At Last Hearth,” Varamyr explains. “They apparently found Rickon Stark.” 

Jon was on his feet in a moment. “Who heard this?” 

“Sulfur. She is the rat right now.” Varamyr replied plainly. 

Jon did not hesitate to force himself into the rat they had positioned at Last Hearth. There was some struggle to seize control from Sulfur but Jon’s will was stronger than hers, she was no dragon.

Jon dashed across the floor to follow the receding footsteps of Lord Smalljon Umber who was walking down the long hallway while conversing with the maester of their house and another man Jon could not easily recognize. With the rat’s super-sensitive ears he was able to clearly hear their conversation. 

“We should bring the boy with us to Winterfell! Lord Bolton will want to use him as a hostage.” The man Jon did not recognize spat. 

“But what if this so called Jon Targaryen wins?” The Smalljon argued. “He would never forgive us for turning over his brother to the Boltons. If we do that and he wins it would be the end of our house. He would burn us all.” 

“What if Roose wins?” The man countered. “If they find out that we have Rickon Stark and do not turn him over to them then we’ll be flayed for our treachery. I don’t fear Jon Snow-Waters-Targaryen, whatever the fuck the oathbreaking wildling-loving bastard is calling him now. I do fear Ramsay Bolton, if Lord Snow is anything like his uncle then he’ll only punish us and not the entire house for our treachery.” 

“His grandfather is the Mad King and his father is Rhaegar fucking Targaryen. I doubt he is anything like the honorable Ned Stark or even the lovestruck foolish King Robb. He’s likely as mad as the rest of the dragons and will burn us alive.” The Smalljon argued once more. “If Jon Targaryen wins and we aid him then we could have a chance to rise high in the world, if he claims the throne then we could be offered him a place on his council and a very beneficial marriage for little Ned. This is our chance to move up in the world. So yes I fear his retaliation more than the Boltons, Roose’s hold on the North is too fragile to end our house. Jon Targaryen’s will not be so loose. If we betray the Starks and give the Boltons his brother he would not hesitate to eliminate us all, both us and our sons. We have more to gain and less to lose by siding with him in this conflict.” 

The other man in favor of siding with the Boltons just growled lowly in reply. 

Jon’s heart rate sped up as he struggled to keep pace with the men as they walked through the long hallways. They really had Rickon or at least thought they did, his brother was only a few weeks away from them. They had to strike at Last Hearth and get him back. 

There was a blinding pain Jon’s head for a moment, not the rat’s but his. He missed most of the ensuing conversation that had taken place in the last minute. Before it had soon passed and Jon was still in the rat, free of whatever weird pain that was. He quickly resumed his pursuit of the Umbers and tried to listen in on their conversation.

The Smalljon turned to the Maester. “What would you advise us to do with Rickon Stark? Do you have any wisdom you would like to impart to us?” 

The Maester smiled his thin lips curling upwards. “Wait, give him to whoever wins, and don’t let anyone find out that you have him until then. If Lord Snow chooses to attack Last Hearth turn him over and then betray them to the Bolton’s. If he avoids us then keep him hidden until there is a victor. Gain favor with the winner.” 

“What if the betrayal fails? What if Lord Snow wises up to your plot, then we’re in a worse spot then if we just gave Rickon Stark to the Boltons.” The Smalljon snarled. 

“So don’t betray him then, take all your men with you to Winterfell in order to assist the Bolton’s. Leave Last Hearth undefended so it falls easily and Lord Snow gets his brother back. He would be forced to forgive you for siding with the Boltons if he wins because you kept his brother safe. If he loses then you can say that the castellan acted independently and Rickon wasn’t found until after you left for Winterfell. If the battle looks to be going in his favor then stab the Boltons in the back. Play both sides” 

“It’s still too risky.” The man Jon did not recognize argued. 

“There will always be risk, you just don’t want to help the Starks, Mors. This is bigger than just paying back King Robb’s stupidity or the Lord Commander’s decision to let wildlings settle in the gift and raid our lands. We have to do what is best for our House, not follow stupid revenge schemes to our grave.” Lord Smalljon Umber explained. “We will follow the Maesters proposed plan and pray that things work out in our favor.” 

“If I may Lord Umber, I would like to visit with the boy now and see how he’s settling in, he can’t think that he is a prisoner here if we are to fool Lord Snow.” The Maester asked kindly. 

The Smalljon nodded his consent and the Maester split from the other two to turn down a hall. Jon warred with himself for a minute before deciding to follow the Maester instead of the other two. He probably should follow Lord Umber and hear what they were planning but he wanted to see his brother again after so long, he wanted to know if it was truly him before he adjusted his plans. 

The moment the Maester opened the door to the room they had Rickon situated in, Jon scampered in behind him. There was no doubt in Jon’s mind that the boy they had was indeed Rickon. Like the rest of the Stark children he took after his mother in looks with long shaggy auburn hair and bright blue eyes. His face was rounded but gaunt due to his life on the run without getting proper food most likely. All thanks to Theon chasing him out of Winterfell. He had aged considerably since Jon last saw him three years ago and was now a boy of six name days. 

While his looks might have left some doubt as to who he was, the large black direwolf resting at the foot of the bed did not. That was the direwolf that Rickon had named Shaggydog a lifetime ago. His green eyes were open and staring at the corner that Jon was cowering in as he observed the Maester. Jon didn’t know how but he knew that the wolf recognized that he was in the rat.    
  


“Am I a prisoner?” He heard Rickon ask calmly. 

The Maester shook his head and smiled. “No. You are here to keep you safe from the Boltons until your brother defeats them.” The maester lied kindly to Rickon. 

“Robb?” Rickon asked excitedly with a bit of boyish hope. 

The Maester shook his head once more, likely trying to appear sympathetic. “Robb died, I’m afraid. No, your half-brother Jon or well cousin maybe.” 

Rickon’s brow furrowed in confusion. “The bastard?” 

Jon flinched. He knew Rickon was just repeating what his mother had always called Jon but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to hear him say that. He knew Rickon wasn’t trying to hurt him or mean anything by it, he likely didn’t even know what it meant and he certainly didn’t know Jon was listening in. Still, it hurt all the same. 

The Maester nodded. “Yes. Your father claimed him as his bastard but apparently he is actually the son of your aunt Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen.”

Rickon smiled. “It will be nice to see him again after he abandoned me with the rest of them. When will he be here?” Rickon asked eagerly. 

The Maester sighed. “I don’t know but we’ll keep you safe until then.” 

“Osha too?” Rickon tried to demand but it sounded more like a question. 

“Who?” The Maester asked. “The wildling?”

Rickon stared at him in confusion so he elaborated. “The woman we found with you?” 

Rickon nodded. “She is safe as well, I’m afraid you can’t see her, however, no one can know you’re here yet.” 

Rickon frowned but didn’t protest too much. 

“Would you like for someone to bring you food from dinner?” Rickon nodded in reply. 

Jon decided that he had seen enough and pulled himself out of the rat and reopened his human eyes. Looming over him was Varamyr who handed him a glass of water the moment he was back in his own body. “Thanks.” Jon exhaled as he downed the glass to help his suddenly very dry throat. 

“You committed an abominable act,” Varamyr said blankly in reply.

Jon blinked owlishly. “A what?” He asked eloquently. 

Varamyr laughed. “You don’t know?“ He scoffed and shook his head. “Of course, you don’t know you are a southerner.” 

Jon frowned at the derogatory tone but wanted to know what he was talking about so he ignored his resentment. “Care to explain it to me?” He asked politely but both of them knew it was a command. They also both knew that Varamyr like most the free folk might choose to ignore his demand, they would fight for him, call him king and even kneel but they would never serve him or listen to everything he told them to do if they didn’t want to. He didn’t yet have the authority despite his title to force them to do so, even if they didn’t want to. 

Thankfully Varamyr chose to answer his question. “There are three things that are forbidden for any warg to do as they allow the beast to influence the human’s mind but they also vastly enhance a wargs power, some say it strips away their human morals,” Varamyr explained calmly. “The first is mating as an animal, the second is consuming human flesh and the third…” 

Jon at first wanted to scoff at the notion that his decision to eat the Dothraki scout and the Harpies as Rhaegal had influenced his mind but he thought better of it. He had enjoyed watching people burn a little much since returning to his human body and well he put it off as a part of his whole dying thing, he had been very solitary since returning to his body much like dragons were. He had also enjoyed seeing men grovel before him and felt like it was his right to rule he had pinned it on the Targaryen blood thing but maybe it was Rhaegal influencing his mind. He had been quicker to anger now and his feelings for Daenerys were certainly more possessive then he had ever felt towards anyone ever before.

But did Jon care if it was? He was Rhaegal, there was nothing wrong with being a dragon, with being Targaryen. He was the blood of the dragon, it was only right that he be the dragon he was born to be. The wolf part of him had led to his death, he had to be a dragon now. The world needed a fearsome dragon to defeat the long night not an honorable wolf. He would avoid breaking the rest of these rules just in case but breaking the first one had not been a bad thing and had only benefitted him. 

“And the third?” Jon questioned as Varamyr trailed off unwilling to name the third. 

“The third is to warg into a human.” Varamyr shuddered.    
  


“That’s possible?” Jon asked in complete disbelief. Did he have to worry about someone taking over his body? That would be terrifying if it could truly happen. 

Varamyr frowned. “In theory yes, as far as I know, it’s never been done.” 

Jon let it drop and moved on to the previous topic. “What makes you think I broke one of these rules? 

Varamyr sat down on the floor and after a moment of hesitation, Jon followed him to the ground. “When you first were in Mance’s camp, when you wanted to turn cloak and pretend to join us on our expedition over the wall, I stole your wolf,” Varamyr explained calmly. “You had a strong bond with him but I was stronger and forced you out of him to take him for my own. Unfortunately, Mance made me return him to you.” 

Jon growled lowly at the idea of Ghost being stolen from him and then turned bitter when he realized that if Ghost had been stolen he would still be alive. Varamyr should have kept him. He was glad to know he was more powerful than even Varamyr who was the most powerful warg amongst the Free Folk so he had no worry that Rhaegal could be stolen from him. That would be absolutely catastrophic and could lead Westeros a ruin, ravaged by flames in a dance of dragons. 

“I could overpower the bond between you and your direwolf with pure force but I couldn’t force you out of that rat that you had no connection to.” Was that what his headache had been? Varamyr trying to force him out? “Your power has increased drastically as a warg since then and the only way it could increase so much in such a short time is by committing an abominable act.” Varamyr explained undeniably smug that he had figured it out. 

Jon tried to deflect the idea that he had broken one of those rules, that information could be used against him he was sure, it was better that Varamyr thought he was mistaken. “I died.” Jon replied bluntly. “Maybe that is why my power increased.” 

Varamyr smiled far too smug for Jon’s liking. “But you didn’t really die, did you, your body died but you’re a warg. You went to your wolf but then he died and you went to something else until your body came back.” 

Try as he might Jon couldn’t conceal his shock that Varamyr had puzzled it out so easily. “So what if I did?” He snarled in reply, angered at Varamyr’s casualness towards the truth.

Varamyr held his hands up defensively. “Calm down, King Crow. I won’t tell anyone I just want to know what you went into after you died and which abominable act you committed.” 

“Then why do you want to know?” Jon snapped suspiciously. 

Varamyr smiled. “Because you’re the first person I know besides myself to do such a thing and I want to know how the effects manifest in different cases with different animals. I know it can’t be your wolf blending over because that was the first one I broke the rules with and you aren’t behaving like a wolf.” 

Jon frowned. He should probably want to know how his breaking of the rules would change him. He didn’t trust Varamyr but he was the closest thing to an expert on wargs that there was and Jon needed to know so he would be forced to trust Varamyr for now. 

“A lizard,” Jon replied quietly with a half-truth. He wouldn’t tell anyone besides his Daenerys about him being Rhaegal and he was sure Varamyr wouldn’t believe him if he claimed to be a dragon. It was likely that he would figure it out when he called Rhaegal to him but for now, there was no way he would risk that secret getting out yet. 

Varamyr nodded. “Interesting. Which act was it?” 

Jon frowned knowing how unbelievable his answer would sound but he didn’t know if the acts had different repercussions so he had to answer honestly. “The first one.” 

Varamyr blinked in surprise. “Eating human flesh?” Jon nodded and Varamyr whistled. “Must have been some lizard.” 

Jon knew Varamyr was expecting him to elaborate on what kind of lizard it was but he said nothing and after a moment Varamyr dropped it. 

“As I’m sure you’ve noticed it is much easier to warg into something now even when already inhabited, your connection to this lizard you frequently warg into is stronger as well I’d presume. You can feel their desires and they can feel yours, you can almost communicate with them even while you two are in the animal’s body.”

  
Jon nodded that sounded similar to how he would describe his connection to Rhaegal. He was Rhaegal not just a passenger though, he and Rhaegal for the most part shared desires and the others wants became their own. They were two parts of the same being who happened to inhabit two bodies. 

“You should notice some of the animal’s personality bleeding into yours with each abominable act you commit and even just as you strengthen your bond. I couldn’t tell you exactly what to expect without you elaborating on what kind of lizard it is and even then I’d only be guessing.” 

Jon nodded. That hadn’t really told him anything new but he would go to Varamyr if he had any more questions about warging or these acts which well Jon didn’t necessarily consider them a terrible thing, he still was glad to know about them and their consequences before he unknowingly committed another one. 

“Thank you for informing me Varamyr. Please inform Sulfur that the rat is once again available and pass on my apologies for forcing her out of it.” Jon said respectfully dismissing Varamyr who dipped his head and did as Jon had requested. He could worry about wargs and laws that he had broken later, right now he had to inform everyone of the change in plans to go for the Last Hearth instead of the Dreadfort, without informing them that it was because of Rickon and that he was letting sentiment affect his decisions. The Free Folk wouldn’t understand the political value that holding Rickon would provide for them in their campaign for him to take the Iron Throne seeing as they didn’t really have any politics North of the Wall nor did they put any stock in family names. 

Jon strode out of the tent to go inform everyone of the change in strategy and the new target. The first person he encountered who needed to know was Tormund. 

“King Crow.” Tormund greeted warmly and made to embrace him but Jon stepped back, this was business right now. “We are no longer marching for the Dreadfort, instead we attack the Last Hearth. 

Tormund frowned. “Why?”

The lie came all too easily to Jon. “There were undoubtedly spies at Castle Black that would have told the Boltons of our plans. Now that we’re free of any eavesdroppers I can reveal the true plan. Last Hearth is closer so we can get there before any encroaching army. This gives them less time to prepare for combat and us the advantage.” 

Tormund nodded. “You southerners and your convoluted plans. We Free Folk when we see an enemy simply attack them, nothing too complicated about that.” 

Jon smiled. “If we had the numbers I would too,” Jon lied. “Unfortunately we are outnumbered so we have to be crafty. 

“I’ll spread the word, King Crow,” Tormund swore and parted from Jon. 

Jon was accosted by Sansa as he searched for the Magnar of Then. “What’s happening Jon? What news was so urgent?” She demanded. 

“The Boltons received news that we were heading for the Dreadfort from someone in the Night’s Watch. They are sending men to reinforce them there so we’ll instead hit Last Hearth while most the Umber men are with the Boltons.” Jon lied easily. 

Sansa frowned. “Why? We could still beat them there and take the castle, we’ll have to face them in the field at some point why put it off. We can take the Dreadfort and hit them where it hurts, they won’t care about Last Hearth.” 

Jon frowned as well. He had forgotten that this was Sansa, he had to divulge the true reason or else she might get it in her head that she would be helping him by sending a letter to the Bolton’s informing them they were attacking Last Hearth so he would be forced to turn his gaze back to the Dreafort. He grabbed her arm and dragged her back inside his tent for some measure of privacy. 

“Sorry.” He apologized. “Trusting is still hard for me. The Umbers found Rickon.” Jon whispered. “They have him at Last Hearth right now.” 

Sansa stepped back in shock. “You’re sure?” She asked in astonishment. 

Jon only nodded. “It might be a trap,” She protested. “They might be claiming some other boy as Rickon.”

Jon shook his head. “He has a direwolf with him.”

“Your source might be lying,” Sansa argued trying not to become too hopeful. 

Jon shook his head once more and grabbed one of Sansa’s hands in his own. “I won’t divulge my source but I trust them as much as I would if I had seen him myself.” He would not risk the secrets of wargs existing getting out as they were too valuable of an asset and he still wasn’t confident he could fully trust Sansa, he just knew not trusting her had proven to be more of a liability so far, so he would give her this little bit. 

“What about Bran?” Sansa asked after a moment. “Do they have him too? They were supposed to be together according to Theon.” 

Jon felt slightly guilty for forgetting about Bran in his jubilance at finding Rickon, if the Umbers had found only Rickon and this Osha woman then that likely meant Bran was dead. Hopefully, he just escaped from the Umbers but Jon doubted it, or Rickon likely would have mentioned him. 

“They don’t have him, I have no clue where he could be,” Jon said remorsefully. 

Sansa frowned but then smiled. “At least we’ll have Rickon back.” 

Jon nodded in agreement. “Keep the news that the Umbers have Rickon secret, we don’t want people thinking that I’m letting my heart ruin our strategies.” 

Sansa nodded then frowned. “Aren’t you?”

Jon shook his head. “My plan will work regardless of what castle we reside in.” 

Sansa raised an eyebrow but Jon refused to elaborate. Secrecy was key if they were to win this war, and well Jon wanted to trust Sansa he would never tell anyone his plan as if word of it leaked out then it could possibly fail and cause catastrophic damage to his efforts and the chances of the living winning the great war. 

-

Jon was almost disappointed by how easy it had been to take Last Hearth from the Umbers. He knew they were only putting up a token defense to make it look like they were loyal to the Boltons but Jon had still expected more. They had closed the gates and had archers on the wall but that was it. There were not even a hundred men guarding the castle. 

Wun Wun had knocked down the gates and they had stormed in within minutes taking the castle without any major casualties. Jon had almost wanted the fight and the fact that he hadn’t even needed to unsheathe his sword bothered him. The dragon demanded blood and he knew that the Umbers were only doing this for their own benefit not any loyalty to the Starks. A part of him wanted to take all of the Umber’s heads instead of playing this mummery but he couldn’t let rumors spread that he was like his grandfather. He hated politics but he had to play the game so his kingdom could be united when the Long Night came. 

They had burst through the gates with Jon at the front of the charge and immediately the old Hother Umber dropped to his knee, prostrating himself before Jon, pretending that he was loyal to him and House Stark. 

“Your Grace,” Hother proclaimed. “Last Hearth is yours. We have long awaited the day that the Starks came to reclaim the North from the Bolton bastards. House Umber knows no King except the King whose name is Stark.” 

Jon forced himself to take a deep breath and not take the coward’s head for his lies. “Surely, you’ve heard the rumors of my parentage. I am no Stark.” He said cooly. He didn’t know why they even bothered pretending that he wasn’t a Targaryen or that they didn’t know. Maybe they thought he would deny the accusations and didn’t want to risk false accusations. He really should take Sansa’s suggestion and wear a crown of pure fire. His coloring was all Stark and it would quiet any arguments that he wasn’t who he claimed. 

Hother’s lip curled with thinly veiled disgust. “We have heard the rumors, Your Grace. It doesn’t matter if your father happened to be a dragon, you still have the blood of a Stark. If that bastard being your father allows a Stark to finally sit the Iron Throne then so be it.” 

Jon nodded half-heartedly. “Indeed.” He wanted to correct Hother’s opinion on his father but it's not like he had any proof of his Daenerys’s claims that Rhaegar and Lyanna had loved each other. He had to pick his battles and for now not defending his father was what he needed to do. His father didn’t deserve to be defended anyways, nor did his mother. Their selfishness had let thousands die and ended the Targaryen dynasty. He would never repeat their mistakes. 

He turned away from the castellan he would, unfortunately, have to work with until he defeated the Boltons and towards Tormund who was standing only a few paces behind him trying not to laugh at Hother’s behavior. “Go into the crypts and bring all of the bodies to be burnt.” He ordered and Tormund and a group of wildlings cheered as they went to do so.

He knew this might sour the Umbers and the rest of the Northern Houses against him but he had to prioritize stopping the Long Night. The Great Other could not be allowed to add more men into his armies especially if they were to be residing here for the near future. He would not sleep until he was sure there were no dead men waiting to kill him when he closed his eyes.

Hother finally grew some backbone at that command. “Your Grace,” he flustered. “I know the Targaryens have always burnt their dead but the North does things differently. We bury and respect our dead here. You can not just enforce your foreign policies on the North!” He snapped at him as he rose to his feet. 

Jon quelled him with a harsh glare as he dismounted from his horse. “You will burn your dead from now on,” Jon replied sharply. “That is an order from your King.” 

Hother, unfortunately, did not rebuke his claim to being his king so Jon could not take the conniving snakes head but he did argue back all the same. “Why?” He demanded with a roar that defied his advanced age. “They are dead, why defile their graves? The North will not support someone who shows such blatant disrespect towards their fallen.” 

Jon sighed and glared at Hother once more. “The Long Night is coming, the Others are real and are marching on the Wall with their army of the dead. The Great Other can bring back the dead to fight by his side. All the dead must burn and we will all perish.” He said bluntly. There was no avoiding telling the Lords why he did this and he had to do this for the wildlings to fight for him, he couldn’t put this off until after he had the throne. He couldn’t risk the Others coming before he had the throne either, this had to be done now. 

Unsurprisingly Lord Hother Umber laughed at his claims. “The Others?” He scoffed. “An army of the dead? They are nothing but a children's tale. I thought the Stark blood would out but it appears you have inherited the Targaryen madness from your father.” 

Jon again wanted to take his head but he couldn’t let them think he was as mad as his grandfather, this would be the popular reaction to that particular claim. The dead were dead, there was no changing that, everyone believed that. Luckily, he was walking proof that that was not true. “If I offer you proof that the dead can live again will you permit your dead to be burned?” Jon asked with a fake smile. 

Hother likely knew it was a trap because Jon wouldn’t have offered if he didn’t have proof but Hother acquiesced all the same, likely due to his curiosity about how he would prove it. He might have heard the claims of Jon’s resurrection but he doubted that very many people actually believed that part of the story, he might not even believe that Jon was a Targaryen but the Umbers were just using his claim to move up in the world and seat a northerner on the throne. That was fine with Jon, they could believe what they did as long as they supported him and his Daenerys believed him which he knew that she did. “I will if you can prove such a thing,” Hother grumbled reluctantly. 

Jon sighed once more. “Dryn!” Jon called out. “Help me out of my armor.” Dryn was not Jon’s official squire and he would no doubt soon be replaced when Jon offered that position to secure the loyalty of some Lord and their armies. It was a small concession but not one that he could just give out freely. Tormunds youngest son was eager enough and served fine in the role until he needed to give it away and unlike any of the northerners would not be offended if he gave the role to someone else. 

It only took a moment for him to get out of his breastplate and soon after he was clad in just his gambeson for protection. He knew that any of the men still stationed on the walls could easily take him out with one well placed shot and he knew that the Lannisters and Boltons would both heap riches on them if they survived afterward. Jon’s eyes scanned the walls frantically looking for anyone who might attack him and saw no one foolish enough to be caught doing so yet.

His fingers hesitated as he gripped the top button of his gambeson. He had to trust that the fear of the two-thousand Free Folk that Jon had with him would keep anyone from being bold and trying to kill him, this was an unavoidable need to expose himself and a risk that he would have to take multiple times. He really should start wearing that crown to intimidate others in situations like this. It was likely only a small deterrent but anything that discouraged making attempts on his life would be welcome and it would be good to remind them that he was a dragon and not a wolf who would just roll over and die. 

Jon sighed once more and shrugged off his gambeson leaving his naked chest open to Lord Hother’s gaze. He knew it was unsightly, the deep red gashes that marred his usually pale skin. Five deep gashes in his body that had never healed over from when his brothers’ had killed him. The hole over his heart deep enough you could even see bone. There would be no denying that he had died when one looked at his heavily wounded chest. 

Hother was gaping at him like a fish as were the other Umber men here when they starred at his chest. “The rumors are true…” He muttered quietly to himself.

“Is that sufficient proof, My Lord?” Jon said politely.

Hother dropped back to his old and feeble knees. “I-It will suffice, Your Grace.” Jon knew that Lord Hother most likely still doubted his tales of the Others but the fact that Jon had clearly beaten death had scared him into submission at the very least. He doubted he would face many assassination attempts when they believed him to be immortal. The lack of fight had certainly made it easy to hide that he could still be hurt like any man. He needed them to believe that was the case as long as possible. 

Jon nodded and smiled. “Good. See to it that all of the dead are burned from now on, Lord Hother. Anyone who buries their dead will be punished as if they were the wight that rose up themselves.” He nodded towards the wildlings behind him and some of them wordlessly went to follow Tormund into the crypts. He pulled his gambeson back on and re-buttoned it although he decided not to bother with the armor, for now, the leather would be apt enough protection for the time being.

Jon looked away from Hother and at the rest of the occupants of the keep. “You all have to make a choice. Bend the knee and re-affirm your pledges of fealty to Houses Stark and Targaryen or journey to the wall and take the black.” Jon didn’t bother giving a flowery speech to the small folk on what he planned to do as king or why they should re-pledge fealty. He doubted that most of them really cared and were just carrying out their liege lords orders. He wanted to hear the small folk but flowery words wouldn’t win them over, they had had too much of those. They needed decisive actions. He had to prove he was different than their previous rulers, he couldn’t just claim he was. They would give their loyalty out of fear and habit to submit to their overlords.

As Jon had expected all of them dropped to a knee. He turned back towards Hother after giving them leave to rise again. “You’ll have chambers prepared for me and my sister as well as food and board for all of my army.” 

Hother seemed to relax after moving away from the uncomfortable subject of Jon’s death and the Others. “Your Grace, we found your brother err-cousin. We have been keeping him safe here at Last Hearth until the Starks could reclaim the North.” 

Jon did his best to fake his surprise at them having Rickon, even if he had already known they had him. “Bran?” He asked excitedly. “You found Bran?” He internally winced as he lied there, he knew Bran was still missing and likely dead but he had to pretend he didn’t know they had Rickon and it was easier to sell that lie with the wrong brother. 

Hother ate it up like it was the sweetest honey. “I’m afraid not, Your Grace.” He apologized. “We found the youngest boy, Rickon.” 

Jon forced himself to frown. “How do I know this boy you have is Rickon?” He asked with false skepticism. “How do I know you haven’t trussed up some imposter to curry favor with your King?” 

Hother shook his head quickly. “No, Your Grace, the Umbers would never do such a thing. We are loyal to the Starks.” Jon only stared at him resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his insistence of the Umbers honor binding them. “He has a direwolf, Your Grace. He calls it Shaggydog I believe.” 

Jon faked shock. “You will take me and my sister to him to suss out the truth for ourselves.” 

Hother nodded eagerly. “Of course, Your Grace, if you would follow me?” 

Jon nodded and followed him down the halls, his sword hand never leaving the wolf head pommel on Longclaw. He heard Sansa’s quiet footsteps padding behind him and knew she was also following without bothering to look back to see. 

Rickon was still in the same room that he had spied him in as a rat. The Maester was reading a book to him as he sat on his bed petting Shaggydog who appeared to be napping. On the foot of the bed. Jon eagerly overtook Hother and rushed past him slamming the door open. 

Shaggydog’s head shot up as the door crashed into the wall and jolted him awake. The Maester fell silent at the sudden intrusion as both him and Rickon turned to look at Jon standing in the doorway. 

“Rickon.” Jon exhaled in relief at seeing his brother safe and unharmed. 

Shaddydog leaped up and bounded for Jon with unbridled enthusiasm, Rickon was only a step behind him as he stumbled on his way out of bed but also ran towards him. 

Jon crouched down and rubbed behind the black direwolf’s ears. “Thank you for keeping Rickon safe.” He muttered quietly as the wolf purred in contentment. 

He was soon knocked away from the last direwolf as Rickon barreled into his chest knocking him backward and onto his back. “Jon!” He squealed excitedly as he clung to his neck. 

Sansa chose that moment to step into the room as well. “Rickon,” she said softly her voice thick with emotion.

Rickon looked to her and after only a moment of hesitation crawled off of Jon’s chest and leapt into her arms. “Mother!” He cried happily. “You finally came back!” 

Jon and Sansa both flinched at that form of address. Rickon had been so little when he last saw them and Sansa did look remarkably similar to the late Lady Stark. He likely only recognized Jon because he knew that Jon was coming and the Umbers wanted Rickon to be excited to see him so their mummery would be as effective as possible. Still, it no doubt stung Sansa to hear that Rickon did not recognize her.

“That’s not your mother Rickon,” Jon said gently as he rose to his feet and put a hand on Rickons shoulder. “That is your sister, Sansa.” 

Rickon blushed. “Sorry Sansa, I thought you were mother.” He smiled up at her. “I’m glad to see you again sister.” 

Sansa smiled through her tears. “Me too, Rickon. Me too.”

“Why are you crying? Are you sad?” Rickon asked with an innocence that only a child could. 

Sansa laughed. “I’m crying because I’m happy Rickon. I really missed you.” She clutched him tighter to her chest. 

After a moment Rickon sprung away from Sansa and to the Maester. “Now that Jon is here, can I see Osha?” He begged tugging on the Maesters arm.

The maester chuckled. “You stay here with the King and your sister, Lord Hother will go get her.” ‘

Rickon cheered. “Stay here with Sansa,” Jon told Rickon after only a moment of hesitation. “I’ll go with Lord Hother to find her.” 

Sansa gave him a look in askance to what he was doing but Jon ignored her. He wanted to see the likely deplorable conditions they likely had the member of the Free Folk in for himself. He wanted to see how they were treating the woman his brother clearly cared about so much before they spiffed her up and pretended like she was living in luxury the whole time. He also wanted to speak to her about where Bran was and didn’t want to bring up what was likely a sensitive subject in front of Rickon. 

“Your Grace, that’s hardly necessary.” Lord Hother protested feebly. 

Jon forced himself to smile. “I insist. I should be the first one to thank the woman who kept my brother safe for so long.”

Lord Hother sighed wearily. “If you would follow me, Your Grace.” He said resigned to the fact that Jon would see how she was likely imprisoned. 

Jon was unsurprised when the maester took him into the dungeons where Osha was no doubt being held. He doubted that they would treat a member of the Free Folk with any regard with all the hostilities between them over the years. They would have to set their grievances aside and work together to stop the Long Night. 

Jon followed in silence until they were at a cell holding who Jon could only assume was Osha. She was tall and lean with a hard face that was crisscrossed with a number of scars. She had long shaggy brown hair that was unevenly cut all around. She was dressed in the home-made furs that all of the Free Folk typically dressed themselves in. 

Lord Hother fumbled with the keys to the cell. “Y-Your Grace, you have to understand we had to keep her here so people would not suspect that we had Rickon.”

Jon gave Lord Hother another false smile. “Of course, all is forgiven now that Rickon is safe.” 

The cell swept open and Jon stepped inside. “I’ve been told you’ve been with Rickon for the last two years and kept him safe.” 

She looked at him with obvious suspicion. “So what if I did?” She asked defensively. 

Jon gave an actually genuine smile. “I’m sorry I should have introduced myself. “I’m King Jon Targaryen, Rickon’s brother.” He held out his hand to her in a peace offering.

She eyed his hand but did not take it. “Rickon is a Stark. How can you be his brother if you’re a Targeeyin or whatever?” She asked in suspicion. 

Jon sighed and pulled back his hand. “That was poorly phrased. Rickon is my cousin, I grew up believing I was his half brother.” She did not relax her posture at all at Jon’s clarification still worried that this was some trap to hurt Rickon.

Jon pretended he did not notice her tense state. “I owe you a debt for keeping Rickon safe while no one else could, if there is anything I can do for you in return don’t hesitate to ask.” 

She very clearly did not trust him still but she responded all the same. “You said you were some sort of King?” 

Jon nodded. “I am, King of the Seven Kingdoms” he confirmed. 

“I plead of you then, save my people. Allow us to settle south of the wall before winter comes and we all die.” Osha pleaded her desperation coming through strong at the end.

Jon couldn’t help himself, he laughed. He knew it was the wrong way to react but she wanted something he had already done before he was even the King. Judging by her glare she was clearly affronted at his reaction.

“When I was Lord Commander of The Night’s Watch, I allowed the Free Folk south of the wall and to settle in the gift.” Jon flinched at the reminder of what came of that decision. “I personally went to Hardhome to lead all of the people there.” Jon sighed. “The Great Other attacked while we were boarding the ships to travel south of the wall. I’m sorry to say that only 10,000 of the Free Folk survived.” 

Osha looked heartbroken and understandably so. “I heard that rumor but I thought it was false, the crows would never make peace with us.” She swallowed nervously. “My sister, Nara. Did she make it?” 

Jon ran a hand through his hair. “I’m afraid I can’t answer that question. I don’t know her personally if she did. You would have to ask Tormund or someone else who might know. He’s just outside, I can take you to him if you would like.”

Osha furiously wiped away her tears and shook her head. “Can I see the Little Lord first?” 

“Rickon?” Jon asked already sure of the answer. Sure enough, she nodded in confirmation. 

“Lord Hother,” Jon addressed the cowardly castellan who had given him the castle on the orders of his Liege Lord. “Would you lead us back to the room where Rickon is staying in?” 

Hother bowed once more. “Of course, Your Grace.” 

As they followed Hother, Jon turned back to Osha. “I hate to ask this but I need to know, what happened to Bran?” He hesitated and then voiced his fear. “Is he dead?”

Osha frowned but shook her head. “He went with Hodor and the Reed children North of The Wall. They said he needed to become the Three-Eyed Raven.” 

Jon pinched his brow and marveled at his crippled brother’s stupidity. Rangers often died going beyond the wall and he went there with a lackwit, and two children? There was almost no chance that Bran hadn’t already died and joined the Great Other’s army. What ever possessed Bran to make him think that going North of The Wall was a good idea? And what was a Three-Eyed Raven? 

He could ask Davos to have the Night’s Watch keep an eye out for Bran on their rangings but it wasn’t something that either he or the Night’s Watch could afford to commit too many resources to when he was likely just a wight. 

Jon said nothing more to Osha as they walked back to Rickon’s room in a companionable silence. They arrived back at his room to see Sansa and him curled up together on his bed while Shaggydog lied across their laps. They were talking quietly to each other as they snuggled. 

The moment Rickon saw Jon and Osha standing in the doorway, he sprung up with an equally, excitable Shaggydog sprinting behind him. “Osha!” He squealed excitedly as he forgot about his siblings in favor of his protector. “I missed you so so so much.” He cried as they embraced. 

“I missed you too, Little Lord,” Osha whispered tenderly to him. 

A part of Jon was jealous that his littlest brother preferred Osha to him or his sister but Jon was just more happy that Rickon was alive and safe now. It was only understandable that he grew to care for the one human companion he had for the last two years even more than he loved his family. All that mattered is that they were together again and they would not be torn apart ever again. Not by the Boltons, Lannisters, or even the Others. He would not lose them all again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa are finally connecting, sort of, at least. The uphill climb to a somewhat functioning normalish relationship will be a gradual one. She's finally opening up and learning that she needs to trust Jon now- at least kind of. Jon is likewise learning that he has to trust her and not trusting her is more dangerous than doing so. 
> 
> I assume by selling Sansa to Ramsay, he was attempting to gain control of the North. You can debate if that was actually needed but her child would have the indisputable claim and she would be their regent. It's the only way that the decision makes any sense from Baelish who claims to care about Sansa. Chaos is a ladder is one of my favorite quotes from the show, in spite of the awful context it was used in. That logic makes his decision to just give Sansa away make more sense, if he wants the Kingdoms divided and chaos to reign then breaking the alliance between the North and the Crown is a logical step. He needs the realm divided if he's to be King like he wants with no noble blood. 
> 
> I actually really wanted the Boltons to capture Rickon but it being the Umbers who turned him over to them and the fact that Jon would have to be an idiot to not spy on the Last Hearth; made this outcome inevitable. 
> 
> Why did the Umber side with the Boltons? I'd presume that they either thought Jon couldn't win even with them which seems like a stretch or they were still angry about Robb renegading on his vows and causing the Red Wedding that killed the Greatjon? I went with the latter option. Of course, like all men in the world, the Umbers are going to primarily care about their own interests and they'd be a fool to not use Rickon to try to get an in with a claimant to the Iron Throne. 
> 
> The Dance with Dragons Prologue is so good. There are three events that we learn are considered abominations by wargs there. To eat human flesh, to mate with wolf as wolf, and to warg a human. We know Varamyr thinks those limitations made him weaker and implies that you become stronger by breaking the rules. We know that Bran becomes stronger as a wary after warning Hodor for the first time, and after eating the Jojen paste, among other things that are less clear cut. 
> 
> So what are those negatives that made them be considered abominations? If they had no negatives to them then everyone would do them and they wouldn't be forbidden. The likely answer is they cause you to lose your morals, as we see very clearly with Bran in the books and even more so in the show where he's left an emotionless shell. That being said I'm not writing Jon as a complete psychopath who doesn't feel emotions so I'm saying they take on more and more of the animal's personalities with each act they commit. For Ravens that might be distant, closed off, and emotionless but for Dragons that is more angry, possessive, prideful and solitary. There is still fewer morals due to the acts but more of a shift than a lack of morals. 
> 
> Poor Jon accidentally broke the first rule in the second chapter, completely unknowing of the consequences. He is forced to turn to Varamyr for answers about the consequences of that act, in spite of not trusting him due to how little knowledge he has on the subject and the lack of other avenues to find that knowledge. He needs to know so he confides in Varamyr.
> 
> Jon is mostly just being paranoid at the Free Folk deciding to not follow him because he changed targets to Last Hearth at the news of Rickon being there. He was just murdered by people he trusted for doing what was right in his heart rather than the popular choice that was considered tactically wise. 
> 
> Jon is quickly learning how terribly slimy politics are and that sometimes he has to play nice with people who want him dead or dance to the tune of their manipulations in order, to keep his crown. 
> 
> Shockingly, Jon remembers that the ultimate enemy is the dead and that they need to be burned to stop them from coming back. Crazy concept I know. 
> 
> Unfortunately, I'm going back to weekly updates. With the quickly increasing chapter lengths and the return to the real world as the quarantine comes to an end, I can no longer commit to writing two chapters a week. Next Friday, will be the next chapter and it'll be the first one told from Tyrion's POV. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, make sure to leave Kudos if you enjoyed and subscribe so you don't miss the next chapter.


	20. Tyrion I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion learns of Cersei's death and the Greyjoys finally arrive in Meereen

Tyrion drummed his fingers impatiently as he stood in a small room off to the side in the building that had become a temple to the Lord of Light with how quickly the red priestess he had brought here had been gaining converts it was more than necessary. 

That had been one of Tyrion’s better plots since coming to Meereen. She had done a good job pacifying the masses and even converting some of the former Masters into believers in the Lord of Light and as a result, they now believed in Queen Daenerys. 

The followers of the Lord of Light had been rather generous in their tides and offerings to their Lord and his champion. The fact that the head priestess, Kinvara practically worshipped Daenerys is what made this religion so profitable. They were seeing many generous donations from the Temple of the Lord of the Light to his champion and the new religion had done a wonderful job of allowing them to redistribute the wealth to the more needy people as well as pocketing a small sum for when they returned to Westeros to fund their campaign for the Iron Throne. 

Today for once, Tyrion was not visiting the temple of a God that he did not believe in for financial or even political matters but religious ones. He was here to verify the rather impossible claim that Jon Snow had returned from the dead and was truly a Targaryen. A claim that Tyrion hated to admit sounded surprisingly reasonable if Varys was telling the truth about what his sources had heard. Not that the truth was ever a certainty when it came to Varys.

He had been waiting in this nearly empty room for almost an hour now, waiting for Kinvara to finish her preaching for the day so they could discuss the resurrected Prince. Alas, the uptick in business meant she would likely not be available until later in the day. 

Finally, after a few more moments Kinvara swept into the room looking as beautiful as when they had first met when he stopped in Volantis on his way to meet Daenerys for the first time. Her hair was silky and dark falling in curtains around her head, framing her soft heart-shaped face beautifully. As always, regardless of the weather, she wore a crimson red dress with gold embroidery on the edges. The dress was a long-sleeved one with a low cut that showed plenty of tantalizing skin that Tyrion was sure was at least part of the reason she had so successfully gained converts to her lord. All of the female priests were incredibly young and beautiful. She also had the signature golden choker holding a valuable gemstone clasped around her neck like all of the priestesses did. 

“Lord Tyrion,” She greeted as she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. 

“Kinvara!” Tyrion exclaimed joyfully at finally being able to deal with this foolishness. “I’ve come here today-”

The priestess cut him off. “I know why you are here Lord Tyrion.” 

Tyrion raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “I doubt that.” 

Kinvara smiled. “You are here because of the Prince. You are here because he did not stay dead.” 

Tyrion took a step back in complete disbelief. He knew she had a way of knowing things, a network of her own spies but the odds of her founding out so soon after Varys who was widely called the spider for how intricate his network or web of spies were. He knew so many things through his network that they had taken to calling his sources the little birds for often he unearthed plots whose only witnesses to the conspiring were the birds of the air. He had been kept as the Master of Whispers for four different kings despite his questionable loyalty due to how much more effective he was than any other spymaster. 

He had thought that her claiming to know what the second-rate sorcerer had told Varys when he took his cock was simply a bluff to get Varys to back down or perhaps something she knew coincidentally through a chance encounter with the aforementioned sorcerer. Never had he imagined that she was actually being honest when she claimed to have seen things in the flames. Now, Tyrion had his doubts that she hadn’t truly seen things as she claimed.

He shook off his doubts and responded in turn. “Yes, I am here on behalf of Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen to seek out the truth behind her nephew and his claims of not staying dead- to see if such a thing has ever been done before. I am here to verify that Jon Snow being unburnt is proof that he is a Targaryen and not just a side effect of his supposed resurrection.” 

“I can verify that Aegon Targaryen did come back from the dead and that he is not the first to do so. He like everyone the Lord of Light has opted to bring back has a purpose that is yet to be fulfilled. He is the one who was promised, to save the world when from the Other. He is Azor Ahai reborn again.” 

Tyrion resisted the urge to groan at the very religious response. He could believe in blood magic being what brought him back but the idea that he was brought back because he had a purpose was ludicrous, no one died after accomplishing all of their business. If that was the case then why were so few people resurrected? And why were they calling Jon Snow Aegon? Was his mother that uncreative in naming him before her passing? Or did they decide that since he was Aegon because he would reconquer the seven kingdoms since it was his purpose or some equally flimsy reasoning? “I thought Daenerys was the one who was promised?” He asked skeptically. “You told her she was Azor Ahai reborn.”

Kinvara smiled at him once more. “They both are the Princes that were promised, they both have a role to play in the Lord of Light’s grand plan.” 

Tyrion would keep that part to himself, he doubted that his Queen would appreciate sharing another one of her titles with her nephew, that might turn her against him and cause her to set her sights to the North rather than Kings Landing and Casterly Rock where his vile family was and those sheep who had condemned him because Cersei had proclaim it so. She needed to keep her focus where the people he needed revenge on were. The North would be a good ally for Queen Daenerys and ensure her victory against his vile sister and his cruel lying brother. 

“Who else was resurrected?” Tyrion asked curiously after a moment of silence taking in all that the priestess had just revealed. 

“A great many people throughout history in the age of heroes especially. Many more once again, after the Queen Daenerys, brought magic back into the world. The most famous of those resurrected is Nissa Nissa herself.” 

“And who is this Nissa Nissa? The woman who Azor Ahai killed to forge lightbringer?” Tyrion asked skeptically. 

“Nissa Nissa was Lightbringer; it was her death and more so resurrection that led to the forging of Lightbringer. The sword that lead to the side of the King Azor Ahai’s victory over the Great Other. No one knows who truly struck the killing blow.” 

Tyrion laughed at that. “Are you suggesting that Jon Snow is Nissa Nissa?” He asked completely incredulous. The idea of it was mad, surely she wasn’t suggesting it. He knew that they believed Azor Ahai would return from the dead and come again with a glowing sword but they couldn’t really think that Jon Snow was that sword to be wielded by Daenerys possibly. This religion was complete madness and utter nonsense with no grounding in reality. 

“The flames are unclear as to who he is. He has a role to play in the great war. Perhaps he will be Azor Ahai reborn or perhaps he will be the sword wielded by Azor Ahai. We know only what we interpret from the visions our Lord shows us.” Kinvara said patiently.

Religion was utter nonsense, even Kinvara had just admitted that to him. He would keep this part of the conversation to himself. He knew that Daenerys believed in prophecy, and destiny. It would be best that she didn’t get any wild ideas from their fever dreams. She would know the dead could live, nothing more of their exchange. 

-

Meereen was fucked. The way Queen Daenerys had taken the city had been effective for sure but it had completely crashed Meereen’s economy to a point where he might prefer the ten million in debt that they had in Westeros to the current situation with no income, the vast majority of workers, unemployed and homeless and most the crops burnt and no longer usable. 

Taking the city from within by causing a slave rebellion had been a true masterstroke from a military perspective and if Daenerys had just planned on sacking the city and moving on it would have been a good decision- the best decision even but ruling a city in the aftermath of that devastation was no easy feat. 

Tyrion had first suggested paying the wages of the slaves thinking that the issue was the masters refusing to pay their workers but the longer he stayed in the city and explored it, talked with the rightfully furious masters and the now jobless slaves who wanted slavery back the more he realized that was hardly the issue. The problem was the slaves rebellion resulting in destroying their master’s wares and as a result all of the cities dependable income. Paying the wages of the slaves might stop the Harpies from being active and maybe end the senseless murder in their streets but it would not stop the city from suffering an economic collapse with no wares to trade.

Slavery might have been the primary product that was traded in Slavers Bay or as the Queen insisted it was now named; The Bay of Dragons but it was far from the only thing. They had reliable produces of wool, vinegar, and an assortment of crops but now they had none of those. The crop fields had been burned by most of the slaves during their usurpation as they struck back at their cruel masters. The sheep were even shrinking in quantity with how large of appetites, the Dragons had. So yeah Meereen was truly fucked. It’s a good thing that Tyrion had always loved a challenge. 

Queen Daenerys had taken steps already, of course, that would in time yield fruit but they didn’t plan on staying in Meereen for ten years. At least Tyrion hoped they didn’t he needed to return to Westeros and take the throne from his perfect wonderful family. The replanting of the olives, beans, lentils, and all the other crops was an easy step that Daenerys had made long before Tyrion arrived in Meereen. That would never be enough in the short term, they needed a new product of value or an increase in an existing one immediately or else they would be forced to take a loan from the Iron Bank which Tyrion doubted they would grant since they had no doubt profited off of slavery and despite what they might claim would want to see it return. 

Many of the larger manses stood on fertile ground and places where he suspected there could be valuable ore beneath. They could destroy the now unoccupied ones who had their assets seized by the state and mine beneath them but first, they would have to test the land and see if there was any hope of finding any before squandering valuable recourses into digging down in the ground. 

He had sent some of the newfound freemen out to drill holes in the ground the manses now owned by the government and collect samples of the water beneath to inspect it for any traces of any valuable ore that could hopefully result in a new source of income for the economy of Meereen. 

“Lord Tyrion,” Daenerys snapped at him harshly. “I asked you to give me an update on the progress of restoring Trade to Meereen and resolving our economic crisis. If you can not pay attention to the meeting then I will find myself a new master of coin who can.” 

Tyrion’s head snapped up from the wine glass he had been fixated on. “Apologies, Your Grace,” Tyrion said with a bowed head. “Things are difficult to say the least. We’re working on finding any previously untapped mines beneath the houses of the former masters whose property we’ve seized. Once the data has been analyzed we’ll likely have a few more mines, hopefully of something more rich than copper. Props are progressing well enough and in a few years should be another reliable source of income.”

Tyrion hesitated and took a long gulp of his wine before making his next suggestion knowing the Queen likely would hate it. “We should also see about selling the services of some of our skilled laborers to other cities that might need it.” He cringed at the end and held his hands up somewhat defensively. He knew that he had worded that poorly to say the least. 

Daenerys glared at him with clear rage she didn’t even try to conceal. “You want me to bring back slavery?” She demanded harshly. “That will never happen. Meereen is now a free city and will remain a free city forevermore.” 

Tyrion flinched. “Of course not,” He protested. “Think of it like you would with a company of sellswords. The Storm Crows are not your slaves but you hire them to work for you, do what you ask, and follow you wherever you tell them to go as long as they are paid. Think of this as the same thing but with a company of farmers or a company of blacksmiths, or a company of miners. We should organize the free men who no longer have work here into guilds and sell their services to work in other cities. They would be paid by the people who hired them, of course, with the city only taking a small tax on the transactions.” 

Daenerys gave him a shrewd look but said nothing. Grey Worm did not have the same qualms as her about speaking on Tyrion’s idea. “Why would masters pay? They just use slaves to do services without pay in other cities.” 

Tyrion grinned and shook his head. “They still have to pay even if they use slaves, they just buy the slaves instead of temporarily paying for them as hired workers. The money that previously all went to the masters who sold the slaves would just now be evenly distributed amongst the sla-paid workers.” He quickly amended after the Queen sent him a heated glare. “Additionally this would allow us to expand the places we can send our workers to places where slavery is illegal like Braavos and potentially even Westeros.” 

Ser Barristan reluctantly nodded in agreement. “It’s a sensible solution, we would restore Meereen’s primary trade product without allowing the evil that slavery is to reign again. We still can trade skilled workers even if that’s not as slaves and that would be a massive boon to our financial situation.”

Tyrion hid a grin behind a well-timed gulp of his wine. He knew with Ser Barristan siding with his plan, that it would almost certainly be enacted. Perhaps, this would restore the economy to a state that had some chance of being sustainable enough that Daenerys might return to Westeros sometime this year. 

Queen Daenerys sighed. “Very well, Lord Tyrion. We will try organizing these guilds of workers and licensing them to other cities as you suggested. No man will be forced to join these guilds and all will be paid for their services. If any master is found mistreating his paid workers then they will be punished in a double proportion. If this turns into slavery again, it will be your head that is taken, Lord Tyrion. Is that understood?” 

Tyrion set down his wine chalice and bowed his head. “Perfectly, Your Grace.” 

Daenerys nodded and moved on with the meeting. “With Meereen’s issues dealt with for the day, let’s move on to Westeros. Lord Varys do you have any news to report?” 

Varys nodded. “My little birds have told me that it has been a very hectic week in Westeros.” He said with an eerie smile. “Queen Margaery-”

“Lady,” Daenerys corrected sternly. “She is a false Queen married to a false King. They are a Lord and Lady nothing more. I am the only Queen.” 

“Apologies, Your Grace.” Lord Varys apologized hastily and Daenerys waved it away, urging him to go on with his report. “Lady Margaery had her trial by the faith on charges of infidelity to Ki-Lord Tommen, lewdness, adultery, fornication, adultery, lying before the Gods and high treason. She was cleared of all charges after interestingly enough, Loreon Lannister testified on her behalf that Lord Tommen’s master of whispers, Lord Qyburn had one of the witnesses tortured repeatedly and even dissected until he spun the tale they wanted him too. Lord Qyburn was arrested during the trial.” 

“Loreon Lannister?” Tyrion asked completely incredulous. “He is fiercely loyal to the Lannisters, he would never speak against Cersei’s side in a trial.” He had known Loreon himself, they hadn't been friends or anything but he was familiar enough to know that the man took his duty to his family very seriously. 

Varys hummed and ignored Tyrion’s objection. “Lady Cersei Lannister also had her trial which she opted to have hers be decided by combat.”

Tyrion took a drink when he remembered his own trial by combat. Prince Oberyn had defeated the mountain but then his own arrogance and desire to hear Ser Gregor confess to his crimes had led to his skull being smashed into bits and Tyrion being found guilty of a crime he did not commit. Trial by combat was a mockery of justice that only allowed the powerful to trod over the powerless. They had never discussed it but Tyrion was sure that part of breaking the wheel would be to end that practice. “Whose skull did Ser Gregor smash this time?” Tyrion muttered between sips. 

Varys chuckled. “No one’s, My Lord. Ser Gregor was not your sister’s champion.” 

Tyrion spewed out the wine that he had been drinking. “What?” He asked in complete disbelief. “Was it Ser Robert Wrong then or whatever it was he’d taken to calling himself now?” 

Varys smiled an eerie smile. “No again, My Lord. Ser Robert Strong attacked the sept they were holding Lord Qyburn the night that he was imprisoned. He absconded with Qyburn before Cersei’s trial. The Tyrells paid Kettleblack for him to refuse being her champion and Ser Loras championed for the faith. Your sister was forced to choose Ser Balon Swann as her champion. He lost to Ser Loras and Lady Cersei was executed the next day.” 

Tyrion dropped his goblet in shock. Cersei was dead. He had wanted to kill her himself, to choke the life out of her, or maybe give her the same poison that whoever had killed Joffrey used to do the deed. He wanted to watch Kings Landing and Casterly Rock burn to take everything that Cersei cared about away from her. He was furious, this was his revenge and it was stolen from him. He had wanted to destroy her not just execute her.

Yet a part of Tyrion mourned the sister he never had but had always wanted. Cersei had always been cruel and awful and Tyrion had wished her dead numerous times as she had with him but now he felt so unsatisfied and just wished to have an actual sister. He crushed that part of him down beneath his need for revenge.  _ For Tysha he would burn all of the Lannister name to the ground. Every single Lannister would be dead by the end of this war if Tyrion had any say in the matter.  _

“I’m sorry for your loss, Lord Tyrion,” Missandei said gently in an attempt to comfort him. 

Tyrion snorted. “Loss? This is a joyous occasion. No one deserved death more than she did. Good riddance, I say.” Yet he did not quite entirely feel what he was saying. He believed that she deserved to die and wanted her dead but he didn’t at the same time. It was all so confusing. Tyrion picked up his goblet off the floor and grabbed the wine tumbler, refilling the glass until it was to the brim and then downed it in one gulp before refilling it again. 

Daenerys coughed in an attempt to move on to a safer topic of conversation, this was big news but there was little they could do with it, and they were trying to spare Tyrion’s feelings, It was almost sweet if it wasn’t so sickening. Why did he even care that she had died?

“Anything else to report?” Daenerys asked Varys. 

“Oh yes, Your Grace, there is also news from the North.” Varys informed her. 

Daenerys’s breath seemed to catch. “My nephew? Prince Jon?” She asked hopefully. 

Varys nodded. “Prince Jon has taken Last Hearth, the ancestral seat of House Umber. He suffered minimal casualties in the battle as most of the Umber’s army was marching onto Winterfell to join up with the Boltons.” 

“The Boltons forces number at around five thousand made primarily up of their men, Umbers, Hornwoods, and Karstaks. There are also another two thousand Lannister men that have been redirected from Riverrun to head north and kill Prince Jon. 

Daenerys fiddled with her hands. “Does Prince Jon have any other allies or just the wildlings?” She asked nervously.

Varys frowned. “As far as I’ve heard no. He only has his wildlings.” 

Daenerys sighed and then straightened her posture. “He’s a Targaryen, he’ll win regardless. We always do the impossible.” 

  
Tyrion nodded along with her statement completely unconvinced. He would be shocked if Jon Snow wasn’t dead by the time they returned to Westeros to begin Daenerys’s campaign for the throne. If Jon had any common sense, then he would return with Jorah to Meereen and abandon his wildlings to die at the hand of the Boltons much larger force. From what he knew of Jon, however, Tyrion doubted the bastard prince would ever consider that option. He could only hope that his Queen did not take it too hard and turn all her rage to the Boltons in the North when he inevitably died before they ever could meet. 

-

Tyrion sighed as he refilled his wine goblet for the hundredth time tonight. The sun was peaking over the horizon now and he still hadn’t even slept an hour. He had passed out early, drunk out of his breeches but he had dreamt of Cersei without her head and Jamie ripped in half by a savage Rhaegal, his features burnt beyond recognition. He saw Tommen’s crown melted on his face the molten gold burning him alive. He saw Myrcella defiled by all of the Queen’s men and then Tyrion himself at the end. She received a gold dragon for her services like Tyrion had once paid Tysha. Kings Landing had been burnt into ashes by the Queen’s vicious dragons. For some reason, he had awoken terrified, and in a cold sweat with his heart racing. He had been restless after that fantasy that had felt like a nightmare. 

He had rolled out of bed and rather than go back to sleep he had gotten up and had another drink and then another and then another one after that. He was pretty sure the steward had replaced his wine with grape juice by now but he was too drunk to tell. He had spent the last five hours or so sitting on his balcony watching absent-mindedly flipping through a book on the yore of the North as his queen had ordered. He was reading about wargs right now, men who could wear the skin of an animal and control them. Men who could talk to animals supposedly. It was nonsense of course but it was interesting and kept his mind somewhat occupied on more pleasant dreams than those that had haunted his nightmares. 

He was supposed to be searching for methods on the Others and how to defeat them but he was instead avoiding that section at the present time. He had started at that part but when he nodded off, his vision had been filled with the most horrific of sights. He had seen Cersei rise up out of her grave, headless and all and take his cock. He had seen Tywin shoot him with a crossbow bolt that had somehow left him alive just long enough to see Jamie’s re-animated right hand strangle Tysha as he watched helplessly. He had jolted back awake and had refused to give in to his weariness anymore. Sleep would bring him no peace as he was horrified by the dreams of his family suffering. 

Tyrion could not understand why. He wanted Cersei dead so badly and now that she was, why was he not happy? He had not shed a single tear when he killed his own father on the privy but for some odd reason, he was mourning the sister he had hated. Sure, he had hated father but it was not the same way. His sister had always been cruel to him and had tried to have him killed multiple times. His father had considered him a disgrace and not his son. Both were awful people as was Jamie but he still found himself caring about his sister for some reason. 

Perhaps it was because of what her death so soon after the death of Joffrey and Tywin would do to Tommen and Myrcella. He had thought that he wanted Tommen dead, a foregone conclusion if Daenerys was to be Queen. He had thought he wanted Jamie to watch as he did the same to his sister and daughter as had once been done to Tysha but now he found the image sickening in his dreams. They had just been extensions of Cersei and Jamie to him before Cersei had died but now that she had Tyrion found himself caring about them as their own people. They weren’t just extensions of their evil parents but unique and wonderful individuals. 

He had once fantasized about killing all the sheep in Kings Landing and had wished for enough poison to kill all of them. His revelations about Myrcella and Tommen being their own people and not just their parents had led to him reconsidering his desire to murder all the denizens of Kings Landing. Like Tommen himself often was they were just gullible, not evil. They were a bit stupid but that didn’t mean they deserved to die. That was a startling revelation, he no longer wanted to murder all of those sheep who had jeered at him and been stupid enough to judge him guilty before there was any evidence of that. They had all hated him and considered him an evil vile monster because he was a dwarf. It was undoubtedly Queen Daenerys’s idealogy and constant optimism rubbing off on him but he no longer hated them for that but instead wanted to show them they were wrong about him

When he had watched Rhaegal rip a man in half as he died a painful and brutal death, he had been horrified. He had thought he had seen the worst of war and pain during the battle of the blackwater but he had been far away from the wildfire, safe on the walls, and did not enter the fray until after the wildfire was gone. He had thought he had no problem with the horrors of war but perhaps he did. He had watched men die in the most painful of ways and been horrified and disgusted. He didn’t want that for Tommen, Myrcella, the innocent denizens of Kings Landing, and he wasn’t even sure he wanted it for his siblings- well he supposed just Jamie now since Cersei had been executed.

He watched as the dragon that haunted his dreams so much dipped it’s head down to greet Daenerys who had only just woken up. She had yet to braid her hair or dress in anything more than a robe. He watched as the dragon rested his large head on her lap and she stroked his scales as she talked to him. They were too far away for Tyrion to make sense of what they were saying but they were still talking with the dragon lifting its head off her lap occasionally nodding along or shaking his head in what Tyrion could only assume was disagreement. 

Tyrion had thought himself as close to an expert as there was on dragons but he apparently knew nothing if Rhaegal behaved like that. Dragons were simple violent creatures with primal intelligence and well Rhaegal was violent, he was as intelligent as any human. He was the only one who behaved like this of her dragons, and he wasn’t even like that consistently but only during the late-night hours and early mornings with a few exceptions. It defied all logical explanations and Tyrion had woken himself early on many occasions to observe Rhaegal’s interactions with his mother. He was the most fascinating character Tyrion had ever seen and was constantly present in his thoughts along with the question of where do whores go? Yet this morning Rhaegal was hardly a pressing thought as his family tore apart his heart and shredded his mind.

Jamie was the person that was always on the front of his mind, especially since the revelations of yesterday. Well him and Tysha. When Jamie had left the Kingsguard, to be Lord of Casterly Rock and their father’s heir, he had thought that he was doing it to spite Tyrion. That he had wanted Tyrion to suffer, his brother was cruel and wicked in every way. He had wanted to take the one thing Tyrion had coveted more than anything else and the thing Tyrion would never possess away from him. 

But as much as Tyrion wished he was lately, Jamie was not Cersei. He was a good person. He was the brother who had always been kind to Tyrion and had never let him doubt that. He was the one who had saved Kings Landing when he killed the Mad King and had never tried to tell anyone why he had done it, too afraid of what would happen if it was publically known and some fool had used that knowledge to destroy the entire city carrying out the Mad King’s last wish. As far as Tyrion was aware he was the only one who knew that piece of information, he knew for certain Cersei did not know or else she would have boasted of her twin brother’s heroics to the entire kingdom and insisted that Robert reward Jamie in a ridiculously lavish way that was sure to add another million dragons to the crown’s insurmountable debt. 

Once Tyrion had fantasized about betraying Jamie’s trust like Jamie had betrayed his and set off the wildfire beneath the city, turning the whole city into ashes, killing all the citizens of Kings Landing in one fell swoop. All those people who had reviled him and wished him dead would be the ones who wound up dead in the end. Tyrion had moved past that now, the innocents would stay uninvolved in his revenge schemes, so would Tommen and Myrcella and probably Uncle Kevan who had believed in Tyrion’s innocence. Only Jamie would die for his betrayal, well and Cersei but she was already dead so he wouldn’t get the chance to kill her himself. Except would his Queen let Tommen live? Perhaps Myrcella but surely not Tommen. He would almost certainly die and Tyrion hated that. 

Tyrion hated Jamie but he loved him as well, the hatred was definitely the more dominant feeling than his love but the love was there. He cared for who Jamie was but he had made one unforgivable mistake and for that, he would die. He had lied to Tyrion and called his wife, his beautiful, wonderful wife a whore who had been paid to fuck him because he was too ugly for any normal woman to love. Tyrion had been a fool to believe his brother over his own wife but he had always had a weak spot for his family and he still did even after all of their betrayals. Jamie’s death would not be anything extravagant, maybe just burned alive by a dragon or even a simple beheading, or heck he could hang the ponce. He did not care how Jamie died as long as he died. As Queen Daenerys was fond of saying, injustice must be met with justice and he would deliver it to his brother. Even if he might mourn his death afterward. He had to die for Tysha wherever she was now. 

“It is quite strange isn’t it, old friend?” He heard a voice ask from behind him. 

Tyrion spun around and stumbled as he looked at his visitor. “Varys.” Tyrion sighed. “Where do whores go?” That was not what he meant to say, he had meant to give a witty retort about how they weren’t friends but as drunk, as he was he had very little filter and often just said what he was thinking of.

Varys frowned slightly. “I’m afraid I don’t know, a eunuch has no need for whores although I’d imagine you could check a brothel. Are you looking for a particular one?” 

In a normal scenario, Tyrion would never give Varys information like this freely but he was extremely drunk and sleep-deprived so he had no filter. “My first wife, Tysha,” Tyrion said quietly before taking another long drink. “She was a crofters daughter. My brother fooled me into thinking she was a whore and had her raped by the guards and then me. We paid her for her services and father sent her away to wherever whores go.” Tyrion hicced. 

“I don’t know where she went but I can ask my little birds if they know anything about her whereabouts.” Varys offered without any hesitation. 

  
Tyrion nodded, not really believing there was any chance of him finding anything and they fell back into silence. Tyrion continued to drown himself in wine and the dangerous thoughts of his family continued to swirl around in his mind. He felt like he was going in circles here and he supposed he was in fact doing so. His thoughts had been that way most of the night. 

“It is quite peculiar isn’t it?” Varys said again as he looked off towards the balcony belonging to the Queen. Tyrion followed his example and saw that Daenerys was talking to Rhaegal quietly and Rhaegal was eagerly nodding his head in agreement with something she had said to him.

“It is,” Tyrion said immediately, grateful for the distraction from his current thoughts. “I’ve read most everything people have written about dragons and I’ve never heard of any behaving at all like this, not even in legends.” 

Varys nodded. “His behavior is very human-like at times, that is for sure. He strategically hunted the Sons of the Harpy and has persuaded the Queen to make different decisions concerning her kingdom. He has been as much of an advisor to her than any of us and possibly a more effective one at that.” 

Tyrion nodded as well in agreement. “Don’t forget his hostility towards Daario or that he let a boy without any traces of Valyrian blood pet him, something that according to all the known knowledge on dragons should be impossible. 

Varys nodded his agreement. “I did some digging into that boy, Tyto. He has no Valyrian blood anywhere in his lineage, so either someone in his family line lied about their parentage or Rhaegal truly doesn’t care about people’s blood.” 

Tyrion nodded as well and took a small sip of his wine. “It’s very peculiar.” He agreed. “What is even odder is that he’ll often relapse into behaving more like his brethren during the day, albeit a little more intelligent and clingy but during the earliest and latest hours he would be a human in mind and would follow conversations easily, even responding through odd human-like gestures.” 

Varys smiled. “It’s almost as if he is human at those times. No other animal species use nods or head shakes to communicate yes and no yet Rhaegal as a dragon does so constantly.”

Tyrion narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “What are you suggesting Varys?” He asked sharply. 

Varys laughed. “Nothing, my lord. Just pointing out how odd his behavior is for a dragon and how little we truly know about them.”

Tyrion didn’t believe that but he didn’t care enough about it to argue so he let the issue drop and let silence once again reign over them once again as he drank his wine.

-

“Theon Greyjoy,” Tyrion remarked in disbelief, and he heard Daenerys inhale sharply as she heard who exactly stood before her. “Last time we saw each other was at Winterfell, yes? You were making jokes about my height, I seem to recall. Everyone who makes a joke about a dwarf’s height thinks he’s the only person ever to make a joke about a dwarf’s height. “The height of nobility,” “a man of your stature,” “someone to look up to.” You’re all making the same five or six jokes.” 

“It was a long time ago.” Theon protested his voice raspy and well worn. 

“It was.” Tyrion acknowledged. “My sister was Queen. Jon Snow was just a bastard and Ned Stark still had a head. You were still loved by the Starks. And how have things been going for you since then? Not so well, I gather. Can’t imagine-” Daenerys cleared her throat and Tyrion fell silent. 

“You show up here with a hundred ships and the crew to sail them seeking a truce?” Daenerys wondered. “What are your demands? That I support  _ his  _ claim to the Iron Islands?” She said the word him with disgust that Tyrion only heard from her when talking about the masters. He supposed the Starks were sort of her kin now and Theon had murdered two of them, innocent children at that. She was always touchy when it came to children. 

“Not my claim.” Theon protested. “Hers.” 

Daenerys raised an eyebrow. “And what’s wrong with you?” She asked, obviously testing his response.

“I’m not fit to rule,” Theon whispered defeated. 

Daenerys nodded and smiled for the first time during this conversation. “On that, I’m sure we can all agree.” She turned towards Yara and ignored Theon for the time being. “Has the Iron Islands ever had a Lady Paramount before?”

Yara frowned, obviously irritated by the address as only a Lady Paramount and not a Queen as the Iron Islands had always insisted on naming their rulers as Kings. “I would be a Queen when you grant the Iron Islands their independence from the Seven Kingdoms in exchange for the Iron Fleet’s services.” 

Tyrion made to say how stupid of an idea it was, how it would cause mass rebellion, and destroy the Seven Kingdoms as every kingdom would soon demand independence and the whole country would fall into civil war. She could not give the Iron Islands or any other kingdom independence unless she was prepared to lose all of her kingdoms and undo the work of her ancestor, Aegon the conqueror. She beat him to the punch, however.

“I can not grant you independence. That would only stir rebellion and I plan to rule all of the seven kingdoms, not six.” She smiled a wide smile that flashed her pearly white teeth for all to see. “I have a counteroffer for you, in exchange for the Iron Fleet, I will not execute your brother for murdering those two Stark boys and for betraying his family.” 

“Your Grace!” Ser Barristan protested immediately. Tyrion himself had to resist the urge to facepalm at Daenerys’s blunt negotiation tactic that had possibly ruined any chance of them gaining the Iron Fleet in the wars to come. 

“I didn’t kill those two Stark boys.” Theon murmured quietly. 

“Oh?” Daenerys questioned with a raised eyebrow. “Then who did? Did they choose to burn themselves alive?”   
  


Theon shivered under her gaze. “They escaped. I burnt two of the miller’s boys instead to hide that I lost them.” 

Daenerys’s glare only hardened at that revelation. “Oh? So you think it’s all fine now because you murdered different children and not the Stark boys? That just because they were baseborn their lives don’t matter? You think that murdering commoners should be forgiven? That you don’t have to pay for your crimes?”

Yara stepped forward. “Theon has already paid for his crimes.” She said defensively as she tried to shield her brother from Daenerys’s view as if she was going to turn into a dragon and breath fire on him then and there.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Tyrion remarked casually. “He’s still alive. It was complicated for you, I’m sure, growing up at Winterfell. Never quite knowing who you were. But then, we all live complicated lives, don’t we?” 

“He paid the price.” Yara insisted. 

Tyrion looked at Theon and scrutinized him. “He lost three fingers and that makes up for two lives?” Tyrion wondered aloud. “Tell me would the Miller’s boys that he murdered say he had paid the price? Would Eddard Stark? How about Robb Stark the brother who he betrayed or even Prince Jon?” 

“He also lost his cock and four toes, my lord,” Varys spoke up from the corner he had been lurking in. 

Ser Barristan cleared his throat to try to stop the argument that was clearly brewing with how hostile everyone was. “Perhaps, we should take a day to think on your offer before we give our own counter-offer.” 

Daenerys nodded stiffly. “You, Lady Yara, and your crew are our most honored guests while you are here in Meereen. Please explore our lovely city while you are here in Meereen. I’ve heard there is no place quite as beautiful in Westeros.” 

Yara and Theon gave a jerky bow. “Thank you, Your Grace, for extending us your hospitalities. We look forward to meeting again tomorrow.” Yara said through gritted teeth before spinning on her heel and walking out of the temple with Theon trailing behind her like a loyal dog.

Tyrion sighed. These negotiations were certainly not going to be easy. 

-

They had spent many hours discussing last night what they should do with the Iron Born that had shown up at their gates. Everything from giving them what they wanted and their own independence to murdering all of them and taking the Iron Fleet by force. Eventually, Ser Barristan had convinced Daenerys to relent on the idea of taking Theon Greyjoy’s head and they had come up with what Tyrion thought was a reasonably fair solution to their dilemma. Now they were just waiting for the Iron Born to show up so they could exchange offers and hopefully solidify their allegiance in the wars to come. Tyrion sighed and took a sip of his wine as he tapped his foot impatiently waiting for them to come. 

A scream was heard from outside and another soon followed it only seconds later. Within the next few seconds, the sound of terrified screams soon filled the air. They were all on their feet in an instant and sprinting towards the door to go find the source of so many people’s terror. Ser Barristan grabbed the Queen’s arm but she tore out of his grip. “Wait!” He called out as he limped behind them. “Let Daar- Ser Daario io go first and see if it is safe.” Barristan had to grit his teeth at the notion of calling Daario a Ser. He had not been happy with that decision by the Queen. Tyrion personally thought that the vows and honor that the position of knighthood held was ridiculous. Jamie had never protected the innocent Tysha and not one knight had stood for Tyrion in his trial to defend his innocence. Knighting Daario might make the Westerosi people less endeared to her but he was just as worthy of the title as most knights. A terrible human being who was nothing but selfish scum.

Daenerys reluctantly nodded. “Ser Daario, scout the situation and report back to me. Take two of my unsullied guards with you. The rest of us will stay here for now.”

Tyrion reluctantly swallowed his curiosity and did not follow Daario out of the pyramid, to see what all of the commotion was about. He had no idea what it could be. He doubted that they were under siege, they would have some warning before that happened, you can’t really just move large armies in secret. Maybe the Harpies were becoming active again and had attacked in broad daylight, just outside the temple the Queen resided in despite how foolish of a decision that would be and would cost them all their lives. 

Then they heard a loud and long Dragon roar and all of a sudden things started to make sense. Someone had likely done something that Rhaegal had decided was wrong and he had executed them for it in plain sight and only shortly after sunrise. The body that was likely torn in half by Rhaegal was an unsettling sight as Tyrion knew from firsthand experience and had no doubt caused widespread panic and fear. 

When she heard the dragon’s roar, Daenerys had gone back to trying to get outside. This time not even Ser Barristan could sway her decision. Tyrion never wanting to miss out on the action had been hot on her heels as they rushed outside.

Tyrion’s suspicions were proven accurate as when they stepped outside they were immediately greeted by Rhaegal. They were not entirely accurate, however, since as far as Tyrion could tell there were no dead bodies strewn across the street that Rhaegal had savagely murdered. No instead there was just one whimpering man lying beneath Rhaegal’s foot with Rhaegal’s head craned down over him, like a serpent waiting to strike at its prey if they made the slightest move. 

That was Theon Greyjoy beneath his foot, Tyrion realized with a start. That was certainly going to throw a wrench into today’s negotiations. Why did Rhaegal choose to attack Theon Greyjoy of all people? Was his mother’s obvious hatred for the boy just rubbing off on him and like the Harpies because of his mother’s feelings he acted? But that didn’t seem to quite explain his actions as his mother hated plenty of people, most of the masters even but Rhaegal had never been so hostile towards them. It couldn’t be because of the shared blood the Starks had with the Targaryen’s either since a number of families had Targaryen blood of some sort. The Baratheons, Velaryons, Arryns, and even the Lannisters where among the many houses with royal Targaryen blood, that didn’t even count all the unknown bastards in their family trees. He couldn’t be aggressive because he murdered his kin since Tyrion himself had killed Targaryen descendants he was sure. He wasn’t attacking Theon Greyjoy because he murdered two boys though, there were countless murderers in this city and he never went after them. So why Theon? 

Was it because of Prince Jon? Since he had the blood of the dragon and was the Starks kin did Rhaegal take it personally that Theon had betrayed the Starks? Perhaps Prince Jon was destined to ride Rhaegal and he felt the Prince’s anger towards Theon and not his mothers? Surely, their bond wouldn’t be so strong before they even met. He had never heard of a dragon rider sharing their feelings with the dragon before they rode them. This whole episode made no sense. Then again Rhaegal never made any sense so this was just par for the course. 

There was no doubt in Tyrion’s mind that Rhaegal had not chosen to attack Theon Greyjoy of all people on accident. If it was Drogon or Viserion perhaps he might believe that was the case, just a happy coincidence. But this was not them but Rhaegal. The Dragon who had shown remarkable intelligence as long as Tyrion had known him although from what he had heard from others he used to behave more like his brothers before he was chained up. 

Occasionally, during the daytime hours, he would regress back into a more normalish dragon-like mind, an intelligent dragon but nothing like he was at night. Every night he would go back to being a genius and every morning would have a conversation with the Queen. He had strategically hunted the sons of the Harpy and had somehow convinced Queen Daenerys that not only Prince Jon was a Targaryen but that the Others were real. He would hold real conversations with the Queen- in the common tongue and from the little Tyrion had observed would nod and shake his head when she asked him questions. There was no way his choice of target was a happy accident. He had intentionally chosen Theon and because he had known who he was and what he had done, the latter was likely his mother telling him though.

“Rhaegal!” Queen Daenerys scolded with her hands on her hips like an irate mother scolding a child who didn’t listen which Tyrion supposed was exactly what was happening here. 

Rhaegal looked away from Theon lying beneath his heavy foot and towards the Queen in an instant. They locked eyes for a long moment, locked in a battle of wills. Tyrion wondered what would happen if Rhaegal refused to leave Theon alive. Would she side with the dragon and let him kill Theon without consequence or would she actually turn on her dragon again and try to drive him off, and possibly chain or even kill him. If she did the former option she would ruin any chance of getting the Iron Fleet but he had a feeling that if it came down to it then she would choose it anyway, she was far too loyal to her dragons, in particular, Rhaegal as he is pretty much the only one present in Meereen regularly these days and she was terrified of losing him as well. 

Thankfully Daenerys was saved from having to make that terrible decision as Rhaegal huffed and then flew off into the blue skies leaving a very much alive but somewhat injured and very shaken Theon Greyjoy behind. 

Rather than try to soothe things over and apologize for Rhaegal’s aggressive behavior, Daenerys defended his aggressive actions. “Rhaegal has very little tolerance for murderers.” She said cooly. “Especially those who murder innocent children.”

Yara stepped forward, no longer cowed with Rhaegal gone. “He attacked my brother in the street!” She scowled. “Is this how you treat your honored guests here in Meereen?” She snarled. “You are more ma-” Theon tugged on her arm to cut off her tirade before she said something she was sure to regret.

“It's okay, I deserve it.” Theon rasped quietly. 

Daenerys looked at him with an odd expression. “You deserve worse.” She said quietly and Theon nodded in agreement with her shockingly. The cocky boy that Tyrion had met years ago in Winterfell was gone, broken at the hands of Ramsay Bolton as Varys had informed them last night. He was only a shell of himself now. Maybe Theon had already paid the price in full for his crimes

Tyrion clapped his hands together drawing everyone’s attention to him and breaking the very tense atmosphere that had fallen upon them once more. “Let’s all head inside and discuss the terms of our alliance with a nice drink!” Tyrion exclaimed, overly cheerful with a fake smile. 

Yara made to say something witty in response to Daenerys but thought better of angering the Queen and likely more so her dragon that had just attacked her brother so she just clenched her jaw and gave a slight nod before she followed them indoors.

They bypassed the throne room that did not actually have a throne entirely proceeding to the solar where they all; Queen Daenerys, Ser Barristan, Lord Varys, and Tyrion himself sat around a table with Yara and Theon Greyjoy on the opposite side. Once the steward had filled all of their goblets with wine, Daenerys started the meeting. 

“We have thought over your offer of the services of the Iron Fleet and you supporting my claim in exchange for the Iron Islands independence from the crown. My response has not changed at all on that front. We cannot give you what you seek unless we want all of the seven kingdoms to be caught in a massive civil war where every region tries to demand their own independence.” She said simply and perfectly calm. 

Yara made to say something in protest, an angry retort but Daenerys held up her hand and Yara fell silent once more. “I have a different proposal for you. I will grant the Iron Islands the same privileges as Dorne. They will be made a Principality rather than just a region like the other kingdoms. You will be free to govern yourself but you must follow the laws of the seven kingdoms and are bound to come to our aid in times of war. You will be free to choose your own leaders as you did before the day of Aegon the conquerer through Kingsmoot or whatever method your people choose, the crown has no authority to choose your leaders. I will support the claim of Princess Yara Greyjoy to the Sea Salt Throne and help you overthrow Euron Greyjoy but it will be up to you to win the people’s favor in the Kingsmoot, I will have no part in that decision. You will respect the integrity of the seven kingdoms you are bound to or you will lose this privilege. No more reaving, roving, raiding, or raping.”

Yara once again made to protest but Daenerys was not yet done. “Theon Greyjoy will not be executed for his crimes but he will take the black and serve as a member of the Night’s Watch.” 

Tyrion resisted the urge to bang his head on the table. That had not been part of the terms they had decided on last night. They had agreed to banish Theon to the Iron Islands after the war was won and if he ever showed his face in any of the other kingdoms afterward he would be executed for his treason. Did Rhaegal’s aggressive actions change her mind or was it always her plan to offer different terms than they had agreed on?

“Absolutely not,” Yara snarled clearly enraged by the offer; likely the last unplanned part at that. “My brother has already paid for his crimes. If you insist on punishing him further then you will not have the Iron Fleet” 

Tyrion wanted to groan. Were they really about to lose a hundred ships because Daenerys couldn’t put aside the sacking of Winterfell and murder of two small boys for the greater good? This was all Prince Jon’s fault, he doubted that she would have cared this much without finding out that he was her kin and that Eddard Stark had tried to protect her.

Daenerys smiled sweetly. “I mean to break the wheel.” Daenerys declared. “No longer will the powerful trample over the weak. No longer will the rich not be punished for their crimes. No longer will any woman be sold into a marriage. No longer will bastards have no place in the world. Slavery will end. No longer will men rule over women. Regardless of their family name, I intend to treat all men and women equally. Equality for all.” She explained. “I can not usher in this new world if I do not follow my own rules. No matter who it is or what it means I will meet injustice with justice. Theon Greyjoy murdered two innocent children in cold blood. The punishment for murder is death or the wall. Be grateful that I am offering the second one.” 

“You would give up the Iron Fleet to punish Theon even further? Is justice for two random children really worth giving up the throne?” Yara asked in complete disbelief. 

“Of course not, I’m not giving up the Iron Fleet. I’m just possibly giving up your crew being the ones sailing it.” Daenerys said with the utmost of confidence. “My unsullied could storm your ships and take them with ease from your unprepared crew, sure I might lose a couple of hundred men in the process but I would have a hundred ships which would seem to be a fair trade.” 

Daenerys shook her head. “Of course, I don’t need the Iron Fleet at all. I could climb on Drogon’s back and take the other two dragons with me back to Westeros. I could single-handedly wreck Kings Landing and take the Iron Throne without any of my armies.” 

She sighed. “I don’t want to be Queen of the Ashes. I do not desire to see innocents die as collateral in my quest for the throne. I don’t want to slaughter your crews and take their lives when I don’t need to do so. I don’t need you but you need me.” 

“Lord Varys tells me that your uncle Euron killed your father and is trying to kill you. They tell me that he is a madman hell-bent on ruling the Seven Kingdoms. They also say that the Iron Islands chose him over you to lead them. That he is the king the people chose. He is naturally my enemy so aiding you does not hurt me but I do not have too. If I turn you away then where do you go? You need allies to defeat Euron’s much larger fleet and you won’t find them elsewhere. Lord Tommen will not offer any aid to you and risk war with the larger fleet. If I turn you away you are on your own with nothing to do except wait for your death. You have no leverage in these negotiations. You will not receive a better offer.” 

They had discussed this part of the negotiations if the Greyjoys had tried to refuse as they expected them to. Despite them gaining the allegiance of Yara Greyjoy being inevitable they had wanted to give them those concessions to stop her from rebelling or a suicide mission ot hurt Daenerys’s campaign and it would put an end to the raids they conducted. It was a courtesy thing to gain loyalty, not something they had to do. They held all the leverage here and they had very little reason to give any ground to the Greyjoys. Still, this was a step too far and would almost certainly result in a messy capturing of the Iron Fleet and them needing to hire full crews for all of their ships.

Yara gritted her teeth and clenched her hands into fists. “Sending Theon to the Night’s Watch is the same thing as executing him. The Stark’s bastard serves as Lord Commander there, Jon Snow.” 

“My nephew is no longer Lord Commander. Ser Davos Seaworth is the new Lord Commander from what Lord Varys tells me.” 

Theon couldn’t contain his disbelief. “Nephew?” He asked incredulously. 

Tyrion chuckled and set his chalice down on the table. “I suppose while you didn’t hear the news while you were at sea. Prince Jon is not Eddard Stark’s bastard but his sister’s. His father is Rhaegar Targaryen.” 

Theon swallowed nervously and looked towards Daenerys, visibly trembling. “I accept your offer, I will take the black and join the Night’s Watch as atonement for my crimes if you support Yara’s claim.” 

Daenerys beamed at him. “And you?” She asked Yara. 

Yara sighed and looked back at Theon who gave a slight nod. “I accept as well, the Iron Fleet is yours, Your Grace.” She and Theon dropped to a knee showing their fealty to her, albeit reluctantly in Yara’s case. 

Daenerys smiled and nodded. “Then rise Yara Greyjoy, ruling Princess of the Iron Islands.” 

Yara did just that as Theon stayed on a knee. “Theon Greyjoy, you grew up in Winterfell did you not? With Prince Jon?”

  
Theon nodded hesitantly and Daenerys gestured for him to rise. “Then come sit and tell me all that you know about my nephew.” She said no doubt trying to contain her enthusiasm at finally hearing something about her nephew from someone who actually knew them. Tyrion had told her all that he knew of him but he had only been with Jon Snow for a couple of moons. Theon had been in Winterfell, raised alongside Prince Jon for years. 

* * *

**The Red Priest's have a tendency to know things they should have no way of knowing by seeing it in the flames. Considering Azor Ahai/The Prince Who Was Promised seems to be worshiped by their cult; the odds are high that Jon who could be that prophesied prince dying and then coming back is something they would see. They refer to him as Aegon since that is his cannon name in the TV-Verse but it won't matter at all since Jon will never go by it.**

**Tyrion has been a skeptic for a while and never a religious man. He is logical and a realist, so obviously he's going to have a hard time accepting myths or gods as a true concept. He won't deny the truth when it slaps him in the face but it'll never be his first instinct to assume that magic is at play.**

**Everyone seems to take the tale of Azor Ahai defeating the great darkness means that Azor Ahai dealt the finishing blow himself but that doesn't have to be true. No one saws that Ser Jamie defeated the Targaryen dynasty; they say that Robert won his rebellion and toppled the Targaryen dynasty. It might have been Jamie that won the war by killing Aerys but history will remember Robert not Jamie as the victor. Why do we assume that the same isn't also applicable to Azor Ahai? If he was the King at the time regardless of who killed the Great darkness on the battlefield, it would always be his victory. We know that Nissa Nissa died to forge Lightbringer but what if Lightbringer wasn't a literal sword but an idea? What if Lightbringer was a call to arms only made possible by the death of Nissa Nissa? Not sure if I'll go down this route but the option is there.**

**We have a tendency to call it bad writing when people suddenly change their minds but that's not actually unusual for people to flip on a dime like that. Love and hate are two sides of the same coin and people are unpredictable at times and do things that make no sense for them to do. That's human nature. Lots of people have dark fantasies about being raped or murdering someone but when it actually happens or they have the chance to do it they hate it and back down; that's an extreme example but just because you think you want something doesn't mean you actually do.**

**The only way that I can justify Tyrion's character progression in the later seasons of Game of Thrones is with the logic that he doesn't actually want what he thinks he wants. That's why he betrays Daenerys when he realizes that her taking over meant the end of his House which seemed to be something he strived for previously, even without the Tysha confession. He thinks that he wants Cersei dead but when he gets to the finish line, he realizes he doesn't want that for some odd reason that shouldn't make sense considering how awful she treated him. That's the thing though, emotional attachment or love is supposed to make sense.**

**In the show, the catalyst for that revelation is seemingly Cersei's pregnancy but in this, it is her death. The Tysha confession obviously has him more upset with Jamie but that doesn't mean he actually wants him dead. He hates Jamie but he also loves him, that love might fuel his hatred but Cersei's death forces him to put things into perspective and re-evaluate what he wants. He still feels it's his duty to kill Jamie for what he did to Tysha but he no longer wants to kill those uninvolved in the plot and render Kings Landing into ashes.**

**Tyrion only asks people where whores go six times in the books and he never poses the question to Varys. I could have sworn he asked at least twice that but it was mostly his internal monologue. Varys now knows and with his expansive spy network can search for her if he finds it beneficial to do so.**

**I'm assuming it was a lack of knowledge in the show or perhaps an intense hatred of the Usurpers dogs that made her treat Theon so kindly in Meereen because for someone who is so absurdly overprotective of children and someone so brutal in their revenge of slights against them it seems out of character to do nothing towards someone who murdered two children. Knowing that the Starks are kind of sort of her kin is going to make her negotiations with the Greyjoys much more hostile and once Tyrion says that he burned two different boys that anger would only increase due to her desire to break the wheel.**

**Offering the Iron Islands independence was moronic at best and would create a multitude of issues for them to deal with as every kingdom demanded the same. Obviously that isn't happening here.**

**Jon was always going to have a violent reaction to seeing Theon again, even with Sansa vouching for him. He doesn't kill him because of what Theon did for Sansa and how he knows it'll upset Daenerys to do so but he's obviously going to have a hard time refraining from doing just that.**

**Theon loathes himself after Ramsay broke him and is very weak-willed at this point. He feels guilty and wants to be punished for his actions and to have atonement. It's very much in character for him to think that he deserves to be attacked and nearly eaten by a dragon. Ramsay made him think that extreme pain and torture was the punishment for doing anything that he wasn't supposed to do. That kind of brainwashing isn't easily undone.**

**Daenerys is fine offering the partial independence that Dorne has to the Iron Islands because she does care about having the love of the people and not just their fealty so force can't always be the answer. Also in an ideal world, all seven Kingdoms function that way- following the laws of the world with a broken wheel she wants to build but mostly managing themselves as the cultures are far too different to be effectively controlled by one person. She'll use partial independence as a bargaining chip to gain armies even if in reality she plans to freely offer it to all the Kingdoms.**

**Yara and Theon showing up in Meereen with a hundred ships was a very half-baked scheme that was foolish at best. They had absolutely zero leverage in the negotiations and without knowing what Daenerys is like they are actively choosing to go to who for all they know is the Mad King come again. Daenerys's men outnumber their own, 3:1, and their crew probably aren't all trained soldiers like the unsullied. She also has dragons who could easily burn their wooden ships even if they have scorpions mounted on the decks which we see no evidence of, they still would likely lose. They knew nothing about who Daenerys was so why would they assume she would take a small portion of their navy to not marry Euron?**

**To be fair they had no better choice but to just hide away and wait for Euron to die but they were really in no position to make demands of Daenerys. Even when Daenerys demands the wall for Theon, it is either accept her terms or die. Obviously they'll choose the former option. Theon who thinks he deserves to be punished is going to take the offer to help his sister.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we go back to Jon's POV for the longest chapter by far. Make sure to follow/subscribe so you don't miss it.


	21. Jon VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon meets with Jorah, has some conversations with some people, and prepares to battle the Boltons.

“Y-Your Grace, a Ser Jorah Mormont is here to see you. Your uncle ordered his execution for selling slaves but he fled. He claims he is here on behalf of who he claims is Queen Daenerys Targaryen.” Hother Umber told him as he stood in the doorway to Jon’s solar. Too timid to enter into the room even after Jon had given him permission to do so. He supposed his cowardice was why the Smalljon had named him castellan, him giving over the castle was perfectly in character for him and because it was him he would give Lord Bolton no reason to suspect them of disloyalty. 

Jon nodded. He had expected Ser Jorah a few days earlier but he had also expected to meet him at the Dreadfort and not here. He understood that the change in directions had likely delayed his journey or maybe the winds had just been unkind to him, it didn’t matter at all. He wouldn’t apologize for that, Rickon was alive, safe, and free because of that decision. “Send him to meet with me in the solar.” He ordered. 

Jon wished that Jorah had chosen a different day to finally arrive and treatise with him. His nerves were already on edge after he saw Theon again for the first time last night. He was in Meereen and seeking an alliance with his Daenerys. Jon had thought he had moved past his extreme hatred for Theon on to merely a strong dislike after he found out he saved Sansa and hadn’t actually killed Rickon or Bran. 

He had thought wrong, when he had seen Theon walking the streets of Meereen, on his way to meet with his Daenerys alongside his sister, he had seen red and flown into a rage. He had wanted to rip the kraken apart and show him why dragons were Kings and not fishes. He almost had too but had managed to refrain himself from killing him, not because he cared about Theon but because he feared that doing so would anger his Daenerys. So he had instead just knocked him to the ground and pinned him there. Theon Turncloak might not have murdered Bran himself but he was the one who had driven him from Winterfell and forced him to go beyond the wall where he would surely die. He was glad his Daenerys had come when she did or Jon was sure he would have lost control of his temper and killed the treacherous thing and cost his Daenerys the Iron Fleet, a crucial aspect in their quest to reclaim their throne.

Hother looked somewhat surprised by Jon’s decision but nodded and went to fetch Jorah. Jon sighed and looked at the copper ring sitting on his desk. He could douse it in oil and light it aflame to show he was who he claimed to his Daenerys’s ambassador. A part of him wanted to, Jorah needed to know who he was and that Daenerys was his and his alone. Sansa would urge him to do so if he asked to gain the upper hand in negotiations. Jon would once again refuse to wear a crown of fire. He wanted to save it for when the battle came and he could use the surprise of the crown to intimidate his enemies. If he wore it even once before than news could spread and it could ruin the effect of it. So he would wait and when Jorah no doubt requested proof of his impossible claims he could just show him the hole in his chest and if he required further proof still he could stick his hand into the hearth. He didn’t need to flaunt his Targaryen heritage right now as much as he might want to do so. 

He looked up when Hother re-emerged with Jorah. “Leave us.” He commanded Hother who bowed and obeyed, shutting the door behind him. “Jorah no name.” Jon greeted with some hostility.

Jorah clenched his hand into a fist. “Prince Jon.” He said in return. Jon did not fail to note his failure to bow to him as would be expected even if he was just a Prince.

“King,” Jon amended gently. “Have a seat.” 

“Daenerys is Queen.” Ser Jorah insisted obstinately. 

Jon nodded in agreement. “Aye, she is. She’s my Queen and I am her King.” 

Jorah’s jaw clenched but he let the issue drop, for now, he was sure they would double back to this later on. “Queen Daenerys sent me to find out if there is any truth to your absurd claims, to invite you to join her in Meereen  _ when _ you bend the knee and learn all that you know about The Others.” 

Jon nodded and began to unbutton his gambeson shrugging the thick leather off of his shoulders so his scars were plain for Jorah to see. “Is this sufficient evidence of my claims? I died but because of a red witch’s blood magic I did not stay that way.” 

Jorah stared silently at the obviously fatal wounds that did not bleed. “It proves that you died, not that you are truly a Targaryen. I’m told that you are unburnt.” 

Jon sighed and stood up walking towards the hearth where the fire roared providing the only warmth in the dreary north. He crouched down and stuck his hand in the blaze, enjoying the blessed heat of the flames tickling his fingertips. “Does this suffice? I am the natural son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen as I have claimed and as the only living male Targaryen and more importantly the eldest Targaryen and son of the crown prince, I am the one who Westeros would choose to sit on the Iron Throne.” 

“You’re just a bastard.” Jorah snarled at the push against his Queen. “You have no place in the line of succession, the Queen is graciously offering you a place on her council because you are family but you are not above her.” 

Jon smiled patronizingly. “My Queen means to break the wheel, she wants a world where men and women are equal and bastards grow up alongside trueborn sons with a place in the line of succession. She might have the better claim, but I am who the Lords would choose if they were called to a grand council. I am not above her, no one is but I am her equal and that is how we will rule. We will share the throne. No longer will one person hold all of the power in the country but it will be shared equally by the King and Queen making joint decisions for the Seven Kingdoms.” Jon felt more than a little guilty for using his Daenerys’s fears against her but he needed to approach her as an equal and since Jorah had come before he held the North this was the only way he could do so. 

“My vision is that same as hers. I too want to break the wheel. The wheel for centuries has crushed too many and let the powerful hold all the power. No more. Slavery is a horror that must be abolished in all of the known world. No longer will women be forced into marriages they don’t want. No longer will a family name protect criminals from paying for their atrocities but they will be judged equally as the baseborns are. No longer will a person’s life be decided by their station at birth. No longer will bastards be considered vile and not true sons. They too will have a place in the line of succession. I like my Daenerys does, plan to break the wheel forever and create a new world, a better world where all men and women are equal.” Jon parroted back the speech he had heard from Daenerys a thousand times before. He agreed with all of her goals, in time although implementing them all at once would almost certainly be impossible and spark a mass rebellion. The bastards one, in particular, would definitely have to wait until after they defeated the Others. In the end, though, they would happen and the wheel would break even if they had to compromise on parts of their vision in the short term to get to that place. Right now, to Jorah he needed to reassure him and by extension Daenerys that letting him rule alongside her would not destroy her plans to break the wheel as she had feared. 

“Why would she accept giving you half her power?” Jorah demanded, annoyed at Jon’s rightful sense of his worth. “You offer her what? Two-thousand men? Undisciplined wildlings at that. The Queen has three dragons.” He said plainly. “She also has ten thousand men of her own. What do you bring that makes you a better suitor than say Quentyn Martell and the entire fighting force of Dorne? Or maybe Robert Arryn and the might of the Vale? How about Willas Tyrell and the allegiance of the Reach’s armies? All of them could offer more men and wouldn’t demand half of her power but would only want to be King Consort.” 

Jon just smiled patronizingly at him. “By the time you return to Meereen, I will hold the North or be dead and my demands won’t matter in that case. If everything goes according to plan then I should hold two other Kingdoms as well to offer her as a wedding present.” 

Jon flexed his hands together. “Even if I only have the North, I offer her something she wants more than what any army could provide, I give her a face. The Seven Kingdoms will see her as only the Mad King’s daughter and judge all of her actions extremely harshly because of who her father is. Their ideas will only be reinforced by the fact that a former slaver, the spider, and a kinslayer sit on her council. Many men would rather die than support a second Mad King, she’s not mad we both know that but she will be perceived as such for a long time without someone who can change that perception. When she burns someone alive for their crimes she’ll be called mad, if I did it, it would be considered justice because of who my uncle is and how I’ll publicly refer to him as my father.” 

“I, on the other hand, am the son of Prince Rhaegar who even after Robert Baratheon’s slander campaign against him is much beloved in the south. More importantly, I am the ward of the most honorable man in the Seven Kingdoms, Lord Eddard Stark. Men will take what I say at face value because of who my uncle is and when I vouch for her and she willingly cedes power they will be forced to accept that she is not her father. If she wants to rule the seven kingdoms without excessive bloodshed or through exclusively fear as I know she does, she needs me. She wants to earn the people’s love and to do that she needs me by her side.” 

“Most importantly I am a Targaryen and dragons do not bow to anyone, even other dragons. We are the only family the other has left and we should be together as the Targaryens have done for centuries. The blood of Old Valyria needs to be kept pure if our children and our grandchildren are to continue to ride dragons for the generations to come. We both know that my Daenerys would hate to fight her family. I love my Queen and we are meant to rule together as equals.” 

“The Queen is barren.” Jorah spat out through gritted teeth. “Even if she was to accept your absurd proposal, you would not have children so keeping the blood of Old Valyria pure is not a factor in these negotiations.”

Jon was sure that wasn’t information his Daenerys wanted shared and it was Jorah’s own desire for the Queen’s hand that had led to him sharing it but if he was going to overshare, Jon could as well. His Daenerys needed to have hope, he knew how much it hurt her that she believed she was unable to have children. Knowledge was power after all and he would be a fool to give up the chance to use this. He leaned forward. “Is she though? The witch was hardly a reliable source of information. She wanted to hurt my Queen and those words were certainly hurtful to her. Was her failure to have a living child do to the lack of Valyrian blood in her husband, coincidence or was she cursed?” He sighed. “Regardless, I never expected to have children of my own, would I want children? Yes but if I don’t have them I’d still have more than I ever wanted. If we cannot have children we would both handpick our heir and our heirs would rule after us, together. No longer would the realm be ruled by one bloodline but power would always pass to someone worthy, and the wheel would be broken. If that is an issue we will deal with it when the time comes. I highly doubt that the power of some amateur shadow bender can overcome the blood of a dragon.” 

Jorah couldn’t contain his shock and outrage. “How do you know that?” He demanded.

Jon smiled patronizingly. “That is information that I will only share with my Queen when she comes to join me in Westeros, not her ambassador. All that matters is that I know it and much more about her. She is the Queen Westeros needs and in order for Westeros to let her be their Queen she needs me by her side. We are destined to rule together, I have conquered death and she breathed magic back into the world. We are the last Targaryens and it is our destiny to rule, above both the gods and men.” 

Jorah made to say something in reply but decided against it and clenched his jaw, clearly realizing that like his Daenerys, Jon was too stubborn to be swayed. “I will inform the queen of your absurd demands. She also sent me here to ascertain your absurd claims about the Others and their army of the dead and learn all that you know of them on how to defeat them.” 

Jon nodded. “The Others have been increasingly active the last few years, they’re heading south presumably with the intention of breaching the wall and conquering all of Westeros. They have the power to re-animate the dead and use their corpses as nearly indestructible soldiers that never fatigue. We call them wights.” 

“We’ve discovered three methods to kill the wights, all of them completely by accident. The first I discovered when I was first assigned to the Stewards, your former father’s to be precise. Some of the Rangers were found dead by another party and we threw their bodies in the ice cells until the Maester could study them. That night the body was re-animated and tried to kill the Lord Commander, your former father, Jeor Mormont. My direwolf tore it apart and I hacked at it with a sword but it didn’t die. I grabbed a lantern and threw it at the wight. It caught fire and died. That method does not work on the Others, as we later learned at Hardhome. Perhaps Dragonfire will behave differently, but normal flames are harmless to them.” Jon flexed his hand that still was scarred from the burn he had suffered that day even now that flames no longer hurt him. 

“The second method was discovered on the great ranging beyond the wall. Your father led three-hundred men beyond the wall to investigate the rumors of the Others and to deal with the Free Folk that had banded together behind Mance Rayder. My direwolf, Ghost found a parcel buried by the grave of a former man of the Night’s Watch from centuries ago. There were dragonglass daggers and arrowheads in it. One of the members of the Night’s Watch, Samwell Tarly was quite taken with it and wanted to keep them as a souvenir. That decision saved his life.”

“He expected to die when he got isolated from the group and found one of the Others, as it closed in on him he desperately held the dragonglass dagger out in front of him. The Other was caught off guard and impaled itself on the thing, shattering into icy fragments on the ground. We have yet to test dragonglass on the wights to find out if it’s a reliable method for killing them or just the Others are vulnerable to it.”

“The final method was discovered when I led a ranging to Hardhome as Lord Commander to meet with all the Free Folk clans that had gathered there and offer them land south of the wall. One-hundred-thousand of the Free Folk were there when I arrived. The Others attacked while we were there and we were outnumbered by their army of wights, they were a horde that moved as one and slammed against the walls. There were human wights, bear wights, frost giant wights, direwolf wights, and all sorts of other creatures. They also had a horde of giant Ice Spiders. The Free Folk and the men of the Night’s Watch banded together and tried to drive them off. We failed, only ten-thousand of us managed to escape, the rest of them joined the Great Other’s army.”

“Most weapons were harmless to the wights, we would cut them in half and instead of killing them, it would just turn one enemy into two as their legs would try to kill us and their upper body would crawl across the ground, still with the same goal of tearing you apart. The others your weapon would shatter against their body when you swung at them with a normal steel sword. One swing of their own weapon, against you and they, would pierce the thickest of shields and armor as they too blew it into smithereens.” 

“I ran back into the village that had been overrun with wights and a handful of the Others to try to retrieve the dragonglass we brought with us to convince the Free Folk that they could be killed. I encountered an Other on the way into the burning hut. I expected to die without the dragonglass but I fought anyway, he took a swing at me and I raised my own sword in defense expecting it to fail. To both of our surprise, my sword held against his own icy spear.” Jon stood up and unsheathed his sword and held out Longclaw for Jorah who had also stood when he pulled the blade to inspect it. “I took advantage of the confusion and killed him with this, Valyrian Steel is another of their weaknesses. Looking back on the battle at Hardhome, the wights that I struck with Longclaw did not rejoin the fray. Valyrian Steel can kill both wights and the Others.” 

Jorah took a step back when he mentioned the name of the blade. “Where did you get the Mormont family sword?” He demanded. 

Jon frowned. He had forgotten that Jorah was a Mormont for a moment, his opinion on Jon would likely be skewed by the fact that Jon had stolen what he wrongly felt should have been his. “The man you once called your father gave it to me after I saved his life from the wight.” 

Jorah clenched his jaw. “That sword belongs to the Mormonts. It should be mine.” 

Jon frowned. “You are no Mormont, Jorah no name. You lose that right when you sold men into slavery and ran from your punishment. Lord Jeor gave it to me so it is mine, if Lady Lyanna Mormont would like it back then I will return it to her family.” Jon would if she requested, but he was almost certain that she would not do so. Who wouldn’t want the King to proudly wield their family sword when it had already been gifted to them for saving the swords previous owner’s life. It showed that Jeor had considered him some sort of a pseudo-son. In a way, that was the case, Jeor was like a father to Jon, by him carrying it he was practically hailing himself as a Mormont. It was as close to a crown as the Mormonts would ever get and would get their name remembered in the annals of history. They would be fools to deny him the right to wield it. 

Instead of arguing further, surprisingly Jorah hung his head and nodded. They fell silent for a moment and just when Jon was going to dismiss him Jorah spoke up again. “You said you were my father’s steward, how did he die?”

Jon chuckled darkly. The same way I did, a mutiny.” He sighed. “I wasn’t there, I was undercover with the Free Folk pretending to desert to discover their plans and report back to the Night’s Watch with highly coveted intel. I am told that it was Ollo Lophand who delivered the killing blow, I avenged your father myself with his own sword.” 

Jorah nodded and fell silent again for a long while, likely grieving his father. Jon let him be he needed to grieve and while Jon wasn’t at all fond of Jorah but he wasn’t as cruel as to interrupt his grieving. After a long while, Jorah spoke again. “Do the Others have any way of breaching the Wall?” He did not mention his father again, instead diving right back into the business. 

Jon shook his head and heard Jorah sigh in relief. “Not that I know of- yet but it’s only a matter of time until they do. They can’t swim- thankfully so they have to go through the Wall. Perhaps they’ll find the Horn of Joramund from legend and knock the Wall down. Perhaps, they’ll dig underneath it, with their numbers and inability to be affected by weather and fatigue they could certainly do so. They might even just make a ladder of corpses to climb up the wall, they have more then enough men to do just that with ease. The wights don’t feel pain as far as I’m aware so they wouldn’t be bothered by men climbing up them and well we might knock most of the wights down by dropping boulders and barrels from atop the wall they would just get up and try again since it would not be enough to kill them. If they were smart and kept an Other at the front of their lines then any rocks or even flaming barrels we drop would shatter on impact and leave them completely unfazed as they all made it atop the wall. It’s not a question of if but when they breach the wall.” 

Jorah frowned, clearly concerned, and then nodded. “I already know your answer but my Queen told me to ask so I must, would you like to return to me with Meereen? If you choose to bend the knee she is willing to offer you a place on her council.” He was clearly reluctant to ask, afraid that he would accept and she would then accept. That he would take the spot he so badly wanted by her side and in her bed. 

Jon wanted to accept so badly. He wanted to finally be with his Daenerys in person, to be by her side, to speak to her instead of just listening with the occasional head movements to express himself but actually use words. To tell her that he was Rhaegal. 

But Jon was not his father, and he would not repeat his mistakes and choose love over duty. Jon was certain that Maester Aemon had at least suspected who Jon was when he gave him that advice so long ago, it fit too perfectly with who his parents were. 

Jon had a duty to the Free Folk who fought for him, he couldn’t abandon them to die against the Boltons when he could stop it. He also had a duty to be the shield that guards the realms of men and protect it from the Others. He had a duty as King to protect the North from the Boltons and he had a duty to his uncle who had saved his life at the cost of his honor. He had to free the North and liberate Winterfell. He had to get vengeance on the Lannisters for executing his uncle and the Freys for butchering his brother at a wedding when he was protected by guest right. 

More importantly to save the realm they needed all the seven kingdoms fighting on their side, especially the North and if Jon abandoned them to go to Meereen, he would find no aid in the North even after he and his Daenerys ascended to the throne. Right now he was in the perfect position to gain the allegiance of three kingdoms and he would be a fool like his parents had been to give that up and let all his men and likely his sister as well, die just to be with his love sooner. He would not be his father. 

Jon sighed. “Unfortunately, as much as I would love to accept her offer, I’m afraid I have to decline. I’m needed here in the north and I am King, I will not bend the knee. Tell her that I urge her to return to Westeros as soon as possible, Meereen will still be there when she returns. I know she wants to wait until things are stable to prevent her work from being undone when she leaves but the Others have us on a time limit, and urgency is required to claim the throne and unite the seven kingdoms under one banner before the Others arrive.” 

Jorah nodded. “I will inform her of your wishes, My Prince. I will warn you to expect a negative reception.” He stood and rose to leave. 

“Don’t leave yet, I insist that you stay the night here, we will provide you with a fresh horse and enough coin for your journey in the morning. I will also give you a letter in the morning detailing all that I told you today and more for the Queen and the Queen alone to read, I’d rather not have you forget any of the details or let your own love for the Queen and jealousy of me affect your presentation of me.” He, of course, would be vague and cryptic just in case Jorah got intercepted on his way back to Meereen and the information fell into the wrong hands, he wanted to tell her everything but he had to put the kingdom first and some of that information could be catastrophic if their enemies got a hold of it. He could not tell her he was Rhaegal through a simple letter as much as he wanted too. 

Jorah’s jaw clenched but he nodded. “Thank you for your hospitality, My Prince.” 

Jon nodded and watched as he left the room. He would give him a letter detailing much more than what he had told to Jorah. He knew everything about his Daenerys it was only fair that she knew the same about him. He wasn’t able to tell her that he was Rhaegal, he wouldn’t risk that information in a letter that could be read by anyone but he would make sure that she knew him before she made a decision on his offer. He prayed that she would accept because if she didn’t then Jon would be forced to kneel for her aid in the battle against the Others which would likely cause the north to rebel and turn on him. If she still refused and went back to denying their existence then he would be forced to crush her.

He knew he could defeat her in battle. Rhaegal would fight for him as long as he promised to let his Daenerys live which he had every intention of doing. He was sure Viserion would stay neutral at the very least. Drogon might be persuaded to stay neutral as well if his Daenerys was safe from any harm, but he wouldn’t bank on it. He would have more men by that time if it ever came with at least the north behind him. Realistically, if she refused to believe in the Others and rejected his proposal then he would have never told her he was Rhaegal and could just use their connection to carry an unsuspecting Daenerys to him where he could hold her hostage to stop a war and gain control. Once the others were dealt with he would free and even Queen her perhaps but the Others had to be his priority. He couldn’t live without her but he would have to. He was not his father or mother and selfish enough to let thousands die for his own love.

-

“Can I come in?” Jon asked as he knocked on the door to Sansa’s chambers. He had to inform her of his offer of betrothal to Daenerys before she figured it out through other means and turned on him for it. He could control how the information was presented to her and by doing so could partially control her reaction. 

Sansa opened the door almost immediately and lifted an eyebrow in amusement. “You are the King, Your Grace, you don’t have to ask.” 

Jon grimaced and took a seat on the edge of her bed gesturing for her to join him. “You can still call me Jon, you know. In private at least.” 

Sansa smiled at him. “King Jon,” she teased. 

Jon just sighed resigned to her antics. “I came here because I have some sensitive information you should know.”

Sansa sat down. “Should I be worried?” 

Jon shook his head. “No, it’s good news.” 

Sansa grabbed his left hand and placed it on her lap. “Then tell me, King Jon.” 

“Cersei Lannister is dead.” He said quietly. He had heard this days earlier from one of his wargs when the Boltons had found out told him and later again from Daenerys on one of their morning conversations but he had saved this news to use when he told her that he offered Daenerys his hand in marriage and half of his power. The gates of Last Hearth were closed to the outside world as they prepared to come under siege so there was little risk of her hearing it from elsewhere first. He knew the news of his proposal would upset her so he had planned on using the news of Queen Cersei’s death to soften the blow and catch her in a good mood. 

Sansa did not smile. “What? Are you sure? How?” She blurted out. 

Jon frowned slightly before wiping his face and putting a blank mask on. “I’m sure.” He couldn’t exactly tell her how he knew. Wargs and especially his connection to Rhaegal were too dangerous of information to trust her with, she had already betrayed him once even if accidentally. “She lost her trial by combat, Ser Loras Tyrell killed Ser Balon Swann and Cersei was executed for her crimes.” 

“How can you be certain? She wouldn’t have died in a trial by combat, Ser Balon would have never been her champion.” She insisted stubbornly. 

Jon’s nostrils flared. “I trust my source. I won’t divulge them to you, I can’t but I trust their report.” Jon sighed and rubbed his brow. He wanted her happy, not to get in another fight with her. “Ser Gregor fled with Qyburn after he was arrested. The Kingslayer had left the Kingsguard, Ser Loras was fighting for the faith and Ser Osmund Kettleblack was injured. She had no good option to defend her in the trial. She is dead, u-father has been avenged.” It was crucial that the North think that he considered the honorable Ned Stark his father and not the lovesick or mad depending on who you asked Prince Rhaegar.

Sansa smiled hesitantly. “She’s really dead?” She asked quietly, afraid to admit it and then find out it was not true. 

Jon nodded. “She is, I assure you of that.” 

Sansa smiled wider and hugged Jon. “She’s finally gone!” She cried happily. Jon awkwardly held her and patted her back and then she pulled away and sighed wistfully. “I wish I had been there to see it.” 

Jon frowned briefly. He hated that his sister had to see this side of the world, that she had been forced to grow up from the girl who dreamed of being a princess and knights and songs into this twisted being who was driven by a desire for revenge. It was obvious to him that she had gone to Jon for help in getting her revenge and she had been pushing him to the throne for more revenge. He had never been close to her and while he was trying to have a relationship with her now they likely never would be but that didn’t mean he was glad that she had suffered so much even if it led to her being a more tolerable kind person at least to him. 

Sansa stopped smiling and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “You said you had sensitive information, if Cersei died in a trial by combat then that would be public information not sensitive information. What did you really want to tell me?” 

Jon sighed. Sansa was far too perceptive now, when they were children she had always been rather oblivious but now almost nothing snuck past her. Her cruel experiences had warped her to the point she had to regard everyone with suspicion like he did. This isn’t how he wanted to tell her this, he had wanted to bring it up not her but he was backed into a corner. “I met with an envoy of Queen Daenerys Targaryen today and sent her an offer of betrothal where we would rule as equals.” 

She took a step back. “Why would you ever do that? Do you know how valuable of a prize your hand is? You are King. Did you even think-” She spat before Jon cut her off. 

“Daenerys legitimizes my claim, without her I am just a bastard.” Jon tried to defend himself by appealing to what she would say was logical and not tell her tales of Daenerys’s goodness when as far as Sansa knew they had never met, he couldn’t argue that she had dragons either since Sansa didn’t believe in them yet and it was too soon to reveal that they were truly real to Sansa. 

Sansa scoffed in derision. “No one will care about that if you claim the name Targaryen as you have already done. No one wants a Lannister bastard on the throne, if the son of Eddard Stark proves he has Targaryen blood the Lords will rally to put you on the throne.” 

Jon grit his teeth. “Tell me then, dear sister, why haven’t we had a dozen lords showing up to here to swear fealty to me and offer their aid in defeating the Boltons?” 

Sansa scowled. “You haven’t proved you are worthy of their support, when you defeat the Boltons you will do just that. People rally behind the strong.” 

“I’ve defeated death as you bloody well know, what greater enemy is there left for me to conquer?” Jon snarled. “No one wants a bastard on the throne so I’ll marry the trueborn heir and get their support that way, even if the Lords of the North don’t care which they very much do, the Lords in the south will.” 

“Those who haven’t seen it won’t believe you’ve conquered death, when they do they will worship you like your wildlings do. They think you are just a bastard oath breaker desperate for power like my mother feared. Maybe if you took my advice for once you would have proved otherwise. Maybe you wouldn’t have given away an army and half of your kingdom for the sake of being as honorable as our father, his honor got him killed as did Robb’s.”

Jon had to stifle a laugh, she thought he had offered a betrothal to his Daenerys for the sake of his honor not wanting him to take the throne as just a bastard. It was quite the opposite he offered a betrothal because he was selfish like his father and wanted the women he loved and because she had dragons, that too. “I didn’t give away an army-.” 

Sansa cut him off. “You did. You could have offered your hand in marriage to Arianne Martell to gain the allegiance of Dorne and retained half the kingdom as she would have been fine being Queen consort and not an equal. You could have offered your hand to Yara Greyjoy and gotten the Iron Fleet or-” 

Jon stood up and cut her off. “Queen Daenerys has an army too, eight thousand unsullied, two-thousand sell-swords and she’s negotiated for half of the Iron Fleet. She also has fucking dragons in case you weren’t listening.” Admittedly Jon didn’t know if she had actually gained the allegiance of the Iron Fleet but he would assume negotiations had gone well even after he had almost killed Theon this morning. When his Daenerys decided she wanted something she would always get it. 

Sansa scoffed. “Slave soldiers. You lost the North as well as any other prospective army by siding with the Mad King’s daughter, by marrying your kin you are proving to them that you are just like your Targaryen ancestors.” 

“She is not her father.” Jon hissed dangerously. “And Starks have married closer relations before.” 

“You don’t know that, I’ve heard tales of what she did in Meereen. She crucified 200 men and left them there to die, she burned men alive in Astapor. She rode with the Dothraki as they enslaved entire villages. She is just like her father-” 

Jon lost it at her voicing Daenerys’s greatest fear and bringing it to life. “She has fucking dragons.” He roared. “If she was like her father then King’s Landing would be a pile of rubble! If she was her father I would be dead for daring to contest her claim, she wouldn’t have sent an envoy to meet with me and offer a place by her side but assassins to kill me and the rest of the Starks. She changed her Dothraki, she made them stop enslaving men and broke their chains off of the slaves. She is the breaker of chains and Mhysa to the free men. She killed slavers, evil men, and if it had been me I would have done the same if not worst.” 

“She sent a slaver to you as an envoy, what does that hypocrisy say about her?” Sansa retorted.

Jon wanted to laugh. He never thought he would be one to have to defend Jorah but he had to do so to defend his Daenerys. “Jorah no name sold men into slavery and was sentenced to the wall for it. He chose instead to flee as a coward. He changed while serving under my Queen Daenerys and he’s saved her life multiple times over. Even still, she didn’t forgive his crimes but stripped him of all his rank and titles as reparation for his crimes. She still delivered justice even when she owed him her life. She is not a hypocrite.” Most of that was a complete lie of course, but Sansa didn’t need to know that. He hadn’t changed, his Daenerys himself had claimed that herself even one night. He just fell in love with his Queen and did what she wanted. He was a loyal dog, nothing more. 

“You’ll still lose the North,” Sansa protested half-heartedly. 

Jon closed his eyes and took deep breaths. He had to keep his calm, he had already revealed more then he intended and he knew Sansa would pester him about it later. “There are ways to keep the north and legitimize my claim. With certain concessions I can keep them in line, they’ll still want someone with northern blood on the throne and to do so means to fight for me as I’m their only option. I’m not going to proclaim the Mad King as some misunderstood good guy nor will I pardon my sire and neither will Daenerys, she’s not stupid.” 

Sansa made to say something in protest but thought better of it and closed her mouth. “How do you know so much about this Daenerys Targaryen, you’ve never met.” She spoke in a rush. 

Jon closed his eyes and thought of a believable lie. He had revealed far too much to her. If she ever learned of the existence of wargs and saw him Rhaegal he expected her to figure it out. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep wargs secret from her anyways, for his plans to progress as he wanted, he had to trust her a little. “Maester Aemon Targaryen exchanged letters with her, he would have me read them to him on occasion. I trust his judgment more than anyone else’s. He was a Targaryen and a great man, not at all like his grand-nephew. My Daenerys is the same way, if he vouches for her then I believe him.” It was a lie but the only person alive who could claim that was Daenerys and he would hopefully be able to tell her the truth before Sansa had the chance to mention it and cause awkward questions. 

“You’d trust a Targaryen over your own family?” Sansa said quietly. 

Jon closed his eyes and sighed. “He is my family as is she.” He stopped himself from adding a mean more then you’ve ever been comment or something of the sort to hurt her. He wouldn’t lower himself to use petty insults that only hurt his cause even if they were true. He needed her to trust him for his plans to progress. 

Jon had an epiphany, that’s what this was about. Not the fact that he had offered marriage to his Daenerys but because he hadn’t thought to consult her first, this was largely about her wounded pride. He didn’t trust her as much as he needed to and he wasn’t sure he ever would but he had to give her something to stop her stupidity from betraying him again. 

“I should have consulted you first,” Jon lied. “I will not apologize for offering her a betrothal and to rule as equals, it’s the only choice I could make. Westeros cannot survive a second dance of the dragons and the Others at the same time. We need her dragons to survive the Long Night, and that has to be my priority. We can defeat Dorne or whoever in battle but we cannot have her as an enemy. I should have listened to your concerns and addressed them before I acted but… trust is hard after…” He trailed off letting her fill in the gap with the obvious being murdered thing. She had to think he didn’t tell her because he didn’t trust in general not because it was her specifically or because of how much the offer meant to him. 

Sansa nodded mutely in agreement. “If she really has dragons then why would she accept giving you half her power?” She asked hesitantly, still not entirely certain of their existence. 

Jon smiled genuinely. “She’s not her father, she cares that I am her family. She sent her envoy to bring me to Meereen so I could be by her side.” He shook his head. “More importantly she wants to be loved by the people and as the ward of the honorable Lord Eddard Stark, I offer her a chance to be seen as more than the Mad King’s daughter, as the Lord Commander who died for the Night’s Watch and to let innocent men live. I offer her a reputation of being good and that offers her a chance to be loved like she wants to be.” 

Sansa nodded begrudgingly. “You’ve clearly thought this through.” She reached out and grabbed his left hand squeezing it once before letting go. “Just in the future consult me first about such big decisions. We need to trust each other and work together, we’re family.” 

Jon nodded in agreement. He would consult her on issues that pertained to her but never about things between him and his Daenerys that were their business alone and he wouldn’t let anyone interfere with them. 

Sansa fell silent as did Jon and just when he was about to excuse himself Sansa spoke up again. “You said she had half the Iron Fleet, is Theon…” She trailed off seemingly to nervous to finish her statement. 

Jon cursed internally. He had accidentally let that slip in his anger at her refusal to accept his Daenerys, now he had to give her information before a raven could travel with it if they left immediately. The day it had happened in fact. If someone ever corroborated the timelines with her then his secret could be exposed. Still, he had let it slip so he might as well tell the truth, a lie would only look worse. 

“Euron Greyjoy was made Lord of the Iron Islands after the death of Balon Greyjoy. Theon and his sister fled to Meereen and offered Queen Daenerys the Iron Fleet in exchange for her support in reclaiming the Iron Islands from their uncle. I don’t know the exact terms of the deal they agreed to but Queen Daenerys has secured the Iron Fleet.” 

Sansa nodded and fiddled with her hands. “You said your Queen is good… she wouldn’t kill Theon, right?” 

“She is good, which means she should kill Theon!” Jon snapped at her harshly, his own frustration with Daenerys’s decision to let Theon live and only be banished to the Iron Islands bleeding through here. He understood why and it was tactically the right decision but emotions were rarely tactically wise. 

“He saved my life.” Sansa protested. 

“He killed Bran!” Jon snapped back at her. 

“He didn’t, he killed the mi-” Sansa tried to rationalize and excuse him for the crime of murder on account of the boys he killed not mattering. That angered him but not nearly as much as Bran’s death by Theon’s indirect influence. 

“He murdered innocent children then! Theon might as well have murdered Bran himself, his death would be more pleasant that way at least. Because of Theon, Bran went beyond the wall. Rangers die out there all the time, the Others are out there, a crippled boy stands no chance. Bran is dead.” He said his voice hollowing at the end as he accepted the facts. 

Sansa frowned. “Don’t say that, he’s still out there.” 

Jon snorted dismissively. “Regardless, the Queen is not stupid and didn’t kill Theon and lose the Iron Fleet. She has punished him from what I’ve heard but he’ll escape with his life.” 

Sansa nodded. “Thank you, Jon. I appreciate you sharing this with me.” 

Jon said nothing and just stood and left her room, emotions spiraling. He had lost the upper hand there and revealed too much information when he let his emotions rule him. He had given her too much information that could possibly expose his secret. He feared what Sansa would do if she knew he was Rhaegal, how she would use that information to get whatever she wanted accomplished. He had to get a grip on his newfound anger that had likely bled over from when he had eaten human flesh, like Varamyr had warned him perhaps the dragon was affecting his personality or perhaps it was just dying that had done it to him. Regardless, he needed to get a handle on his temper or he would make a very poor King. 

-

“Good morning Rhaegal,” Daenerys yawned as she padded out to their balcony covered in just a sheer nightdress. She gently stroked the top of Jon’s snout and he hummed in contentment at her actions. All too soon these conversations would come to an end when he was forced to call Rhaegal to him. Jon was eager to have Rhaegal by his side but he would miss these conversations they had together. 

“You attacked someone in the streets yesterday,” Daenerys stated plainly. Jon did the closest thing a dragon could do to groaning although it sounded more like a growl. He didn’t need to be lectured on this, he already knew his attack was a mistake it had just been his anger at the sight of Theon that had caused him to react in such an adverse way. 

“When I first saw you standing on the Greyjoy boy I was terrified that he was dead, that you had caused me to make an enemy of the Iron Islands and had thrown away the lives of my unsullied so we could take the Iron Fleet by force.”

“I was terrified that I was going to have to lock you and your brothers up again.” Jon and Rhaegal growled at the reminder of their wretched time in that cave chained up like a common dog. “I locked you up the first time because Drogon murdered an innocent child. He burnt Zalla alive and then ate her remains. I chose the good of my people over you once and as much as I love you and your brothers I would do so again. I want to build a new better world and no one, not even you can be exempt from the rules of the world.”

That was why she had locked them all up? Drogon had killed one child and they were imprisoned for it? Drogon should have been punished not him or Viserion. 

She sighed. “But you didn’t kill Theon when I thought you had even though you probably should have.” Jon was taken aback by that response even Jon thought that not killing Theon would have been the better decision there was no way his Daenerys was suggesting otherwise. 

His Daenerys chuckled at his shocked expression and his Daenerys stroked the smooth scales under his chin. “I want to build a new world where your family name doesn’t pardon you for the sins of the past, where everyone is judged and punished equally but I was intentionally ignoring my own rules to suit my purposes. The punishment for murder is death or the wall and I was letting Greyjoy be judged separately.” 

“So I changed the deal. Theon Greyjoy will join the Night’s Watch when we head to Westeros and I got a hundred ships out of the exchange. You changed my mind, Rhaegal. I had ignored his slights against my nephew for my cause but you knew that he had wronged the blood of the dragon and demanded proper retribution. He will pay it now thanks to you, Rhaegal.” 

Jon smiled and flashed long sharp teeth. Theon deserved to die but the Night’s Watch was a more than suitable alternative. He would serve on the wall the rest of his days with men as evil as he was and the wall always needed more men. Jon hated Theon but he would be an asset to the Night’s Watch so Jon would allow him to live, for now at least. 

“Theon Greyjoy told me about my nephew,” Daenerys said quietly, her voice barely a whisper. Jon couldn’t help but groan again, now instead of a blank slate, now she would have the opinion of someone who hated him influencing her opinion. “They grew up together, you know. I can’t wait for Jorah to return to Meereen with him so I can finally meet him in person, he sounds wonderful.”

Hell had truly frozen over. Theon speaking kindly about Jon? Was Sansa right and he really had changed? She said he was completely broken by Ramsay Snow. The old Theon would have made Jon out to be the lowest of the low and complete scum, that had always been his favorite habit.

“You were right about my nephew suffering, Rhaegal. He might not have been sold for an army or lived his entire life on the run but he suffered all the same. He was treated as an outcast in his own home. His aunt treated him like dirt and refused to let him be with the family, she treated a hostage better than her own nephew.” 

She gritted her teeth and ceased her petting of his smooth scales. “That vile woman treated a prince as a slave. If she wasn’t already dead I would burn her alive for how she treated my nephew. When his uncle went to be the Usurpers hand she forced him to leave too. She forced him to give up his life and birthright to serve in the Night’s Watch. She practically sold him into slavery.” Daenerys snarled. 

Jon couldn’t help but feel vindicated by his Daenerys’s outright hatred of Lady Stark. He was surprised Theon had told the truth so clearly, sure he had likely left out his own parts in Jon’s mistreatment but he hadn’t made Jon out to be the guilty one for once. 

“Despite that bitch’s treatment of him, he still is a good man. He still inherited his uncle’s sense of honor according to Greyjoy, he still wanted to help people. I am told that he would often cover for his youngest cousin, Arya. That he would shield her from punishment and even throw himself to the wolfs in order for her to escape. That he would distract people from insulting her and instead let himself be insulted. The more I hear the more excited I am to finally meet my nephew.” 

Daenerys sighed. “Yet I worry that I never will get the chance to meet him.” She stroked behind his ear and looked away from him. “If Tyrion and Greyjoy are at all close to the truth when they tell me about my nephew, then he won’t abandon his people to return to Meereen with Jorah. There are seven-thousand men marching towards the Last Hearth where he is holed up according to Varys. He has two-thousand.”

She sighed once more. “I’m told that he faced worst odds at the wall, but that was against the Wildlings that now are his army, not disciplined knights like he’ll be facing this time. No one will say it but my entire council thinks he is doomed except for maybe Varys. I’m going to lose my nephew before I even get the chance to know him. I finally find out that I have family out there, that I’m not alone in the world, and now he’s just going to die again.”

She hugged Jon’s head to her chest. “What kind of cruel cosmic joke is this that my nephew would come back from the dead only to die again? Why give me hope of having a family only to cruelly snatch it away while I’m stranded here, helpless in Meereen, completely unable to help as he dies again? Even if I left Meereen now and sailed there with all of my unsullied we wouldn’t arrive until he was already dead. There is nothing I can do for him.” She cried into Jon’s neck.

“I wish that I could but I have to put my people first. I’ll kill every single Bolton, and Lannister for their murder of my nephew but it’ll never be enough. Surely, even he can’t cheat death twice. He will die and I’ll be alone again.”

Jon shook his head in her grip. He wouldn’t die. Soon they would be united in person and together ruling as one. “You know what I meant, I know you would never leave me even as your brothers hate me and stay away, you’re always here for me. With you, I am not alone but soon I’ll be without any human family. I’ll be the last Targaryen once again. My House will die with me.” 

Daenerys pulled back and kissed the top of Jon’s head. “I woke up too late today so we only had a short time together, I have to go prepare for my day. I’ll speak to you again tomorrow morning and tell you more about my nephew, Rhaegal.”

Jon watched as she retreated from him and couldn’t help but feel guilty. He was responsible for her pain. He couldn’t do anything to stop it yet and when he finally won he would cause her pain in a different way. He could only hope that she could one day forgive him for all of this. 

Once she had dressed and left her chambers with Missandei to go see the day’s petitioners, Jon prepared himself to return to his human body but then he heard a voice calling for him. “Rhaegal!” A voice called out to him from the left. 

Jon turned towards the voice intent on showing the voice and found Lord Varys waiting on the public terrace of the pyramid, available to all of the Queen’s guests and soldiers to explore. What did the eunuch want with Rhaegal? To study him? Sell information on how to defeat him to their enemies? Lord Varys had betrayed multiple Kings in the past and Jon had no doubt he would do so again, his Daenerys was smart to use the eunuch for information, there was no one better at gathering it than him, his little birds had a way of knowing impossible things. Jon would have done the same in her place but neither of them would ever be foolish enough to trust him. 

“Or should I call you Prince Jon?” 

  
_ Well, fuck.  _ Try as Jon might but he couldn’t stop himself from reacting to the spider knowing his secret, he had never told anyone that but the spymaster had managed to puzzle it out, sure it might have just been a suspicion but the way that Jon flinched back at the accusation had given himself away to possibly the least trustworthy person possible. He had forgotten that Varys had sources amongst the Free Folk and almost certainly had already known wargs were real as a result. 

Perhaps Jon should just murder him to keep his secret. His Daenerys was sure to assume Varys had betrayed her and that’s why he had acted against him. She was sure to side with her beloved Rhaegal over the treacherous spymaster in any matter. But Jon didn’t want to lie to his Daenerys and when he finally revealed to her he was Rhaegal, she would be upset with the lengths he went to keep this secret from her. Or more realistically if he killed Varys she would ask him about it tomorrow and he would be forced to say he killed him for reasons other then Varys’s betrayal or lie about it. 

He probably should have quickly retreated into his human body and given Rhaegal control of this one. Rhaegal would have snorted dismissively and flown off. Make him think that he had imagined his flinch. Except had he done that he could have brought his suspicions to his Daenerys who he would tell the truth to when she asked him and he didn’t know how she would take it but he knew that Varys would find out and have his confirmation either way. 

“Don’t worry, I have no plans to tell the Queen, yet,” Varys reassured him quickly. That did not reassure him at all. Varys had no loyalty to his Daenerys he knew. That he wouldn’t tell her such revolutionary information was betrayal in a way. He had only promised not to tell a Queen not a King or a Lord. He could still give the information to King Tommen or a Bolton. He had to kill Varys or else he could lose the battle for the North. 

“Although I do find myself quite curious as to how you warged into a dragon. That is impossible, warging into a magical creature, let alone one you’ve never met, but then again there has never been a Targaryen warg before.” 

“I suspected it from the moment you were brought back to life, your human-like intelligence had been so odd since you escaped, which was only shortly after the death of Jon Snow. But the day Jon Snow was brought back, Rhaegal started acting more like a dragon again during the days; still a dragon mostly but as if only a little bit of human behavior was rubbing off on him. Then during the night and in the morning, he would have human-like intelligence as if he was two separate people in one body- one of them distinctly human.”

Varys clicked his tongue. “How you only spoke the common tongue was a major hint. The fact that you were the one who persuaded her to trust Prince Jon and that it was you who persuaded her that the Others were real were major clues to your identity. Your attack on Theon Greyjoy yesterday was the straw that broke the camels back and confirmed my suspicions for me but I would have figured it out eventually either way.” 

That gave Jon pause. If he were to kill Varys to keep his secret then would he do the same to the next person to figure him out? Tyrion was intelligent, soon Jon would be forced to kill him as well if he went down this route. He hadn’t exactly tried to be subtle. He had relied on their lack of awareness to the existence of wargs to keep his secret. That had been naive. These events would only anger his Daenerys and destroy their alliance when she figured out the truth. Varys knew that Jon couldn’t do anything without upsetting his Daenerys too. That was why he had been comfortable confronting Rhaegal because he knew Jon couldn’t do anything to him. He was safe under Daenerys’s protection. 

“I didn’t inform you of my knowledge just to gloat. I have sensitive information for Prince Jon or King Jon if you would prefer since I suppose that’s how you are stylizing yourself now. The Mormonts are sending a little under a hundred men to rendezvous with you at Last Hearth, they want to fight to put you on the throne and avenge the Red Wedding. They’re a small house that had been hurt severely in your cousin’s war but they want you on the throne and the Starks to rule the North..”

Jon nodded. That was unsurprising news to Jon, Lady Lyanna Mormont had been the one who had told Stannis that  _ “House Mormont knows no King, except the King in the North whose name is Stark.” _ He had expected them to rally behind him especially with him being essentially being named an honorary Mormont by Jeor and their loyalty to the Starks was incredibly fierce. The fact that the Mormonts were only sending a hundred men might have upset Jon if he actually planned on battling them with an army. For his plan to work it hardly mattered how many men he had. 

“House Slate also plans on coming to your aid with 300 men of their own. The young Lord Brandon Slate is furious over his father, and elder brother’s death in the Red Wedding and is sending all 400 of his men to aid you with him at the front of the charge. He should be arriving at your gates within a sennight.” Varys explained jollily. 

Jon was slightly surprised by that one. House Slate and House Stark had never had close relations after they bent the knee to the Starks and gave up their own crown to the Stark King. Tactically it was a rather poor decision for House Slate, Jon on paper had no chance of winning this war without at least one Houses Glover, Manderly, or Umber on his side. He probably needed more on top of that. Children were always rather susceptible to being ruled by their emotions so it didn’t surprise him that Brandon Slate had ignored the advice of his councilors and focused on his lust for revenge by teaming with Jon and working to destroy the Boltons. Assuming Varys was being honest of course which Jon thought that he had no reason to wish him dead but he couldn’t actually say.

“House Whitehill is sending seven-hundred men to the Last Hearth as well, claiming they wish to side with you against the Bolton’s but they plan on betraying you and bringing your head to the Boltons in order to gain their favor.”

That was a big piece of news that Jon hadn’t heard. Highpoint was close enough to the Last Hearth that they would arrive at least two weeks before the Boltons did and if he were to let them inside they might lose before Jon could even enact his plan. At the same time, he couldn’t turn away seven hundred men or he’d lose the support of his people so he would have been forced to accept them. Now, he could procure evidence of some sort to give him legitimate cause to turn them away, even if falsified or paying a steward to lie about overhearing something. He now knew he had to turn them away if there was even a chance Varys was right. He might be lying but Jon could win without those seven hundred men. 

“That’s all I have for you now but I’ll be out here again when I have more information that you need to know,” Varys replied happily. “Do try not to die again, King Jon. I would hate to see what that would do to our Queen’s mental state.” He giggled at the thought of it and Jon watched him walk back into the pyramid and possibly to his Daenerys or even to send a raven to King Tommen and tell him the truth of his identity. He said that he wouldn’t tell and Jon had no choice but to hope that he wouldn’t. 

Jon sighed once more and then opened his eyes as a human leaving Rhaegal behind. He couldn’t count on no one finding out his identity because they didn’t think wargs were real anymore, he was sure that when he called Rhaegal to him and he was seen riding Rhaegal Tyrion was smart, surely he at the very least would also figure things out and anyone else with knowledge of the events in Meereen could potentially put things together. If he started killing them all then his Daenerys would never forgive him. Perhaps he needed to accept that it was never going to remain a secret. He needed his Daenerys to hear it from him first or at least make an effort for him to be the source that she heard first, she had to know that he had wanted to trust her. Ideally, it would be in person but realistically, that was never going to be doable. 

Jon picked up the scroll he had sealed with the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen and broke the seal. Lord Varys’s unexpected and unwelcome knowledge at least gave him a chance to tell his Daenerys without there being a risk of the letter being intercepted on its way to Meereen. He grabbed a roll of parchment and tore off a small strip. 

_ Tell Lord Varys he has my express permission to share my source.  _ He wrote before shoving that too in the scroll and stamping it shut with the Targaryen sigil once again. 

He had rewritten this letter nearly a hundred times, making sure to remove all the possessive words he had used regarding his Daenerys. The letter needed to be perfect and he couldn’t come off as a creep. He had to be her equal and well him calling her his was never about him trying to control her, she might view it as if he was. He called her his just like she called Rhaegal her dragon. They were each other’s, it was simply the vocabulary and way a dragon thought of their people. She was no possession but she was his Daenerys just like Arya was his sister. 

His Daenerys would know that he was Rhaegal when she made the decision to accept his offer of betrothal and equal power. She wouldn’t be able to hear it from him and Rhaegal almost certainly wouldn’t be there when she learned it but she would know and hopefully still love him all the same. The message was cryptic enough that anyone who stole the message wouldn’t understand it but as long as Lord Varys remained in Meereen and answered honestly his Daenerys would. 

Even still, he would order Jorah that the contents of the letter were more important then his life, and if he was intercepted that the letter was to be destroyed. He would warn him that the information within could be used to hurt his Daenerys if it fell into the wrong hands.

-

Sure enough, as Varys had warned him the Slates arrived within a sennight at his gates with four-hundred men of their own. Jon would have been prepared to receive the Slates whether Varys had warned him of their coming or not but he appreciated the warning all the same. He had been sending his wargs out as scouts flying as birds high above the ground looking for any upcoming armies, they obviously couldn’t cover all the ground with a one hundred mile radius but they could cover a lot of it and they would usually spot any large host that was approaching. A single assassin or a small party his wargs would be useless against but large armies were easy to find and a bird flying over an army was not an uncommon sight, he could get as close as he needed and not have to worry about his scouts being killed.

He had a few birds traveling with the Bolton’s forces that had been joined by a number of hoses in Winterfell when they had called their bannermen. House Hornwood, Karstark, Umber, Flint, Dustin, and Ryswell had all joined hands with Roose Bolton in the battle for the north. Jon didn’t particularly care for their reasoning and another bird had joined up with the Lannister army at Riverrun. On top of those birds, they had a handful of scouting birds that went out to the east, west, and south about a hundred miles or so in search of other enemy forces so they couldn’t be blindsided. 

He was definitely overworking his small brigand of wargs as they spent most of their time in bodies that weren’t their own and the effects were showing as many of them were picking up some of their birds quirks the longer they spent as the animal. The Free Folk had yet to complain to him at least of the long hours so Jon would continue to work them into the ground until the Boltons were defeated, then they could rest when he got to be on the offensive. He suspected the lack of complaints from the workload had to do with how restless the Free Folk were when they essentially trapped behind the stone walls of the Last Hearth. They were the Free Folk who lived wherever they chose and they were essentially trapped in the castle Jon had chosen to make his stand at. 

The Free Folk understood why they had to stay here but that didn’t mean they were at all happy about it. They hadn’t acted out too much because of both their respect and fear of Jon after he had let them south of the wall and they had seen him walk out of the fire, defeating death. That didn’t mean they didn’t complain, however. They were growing restless and well they trusted Jon at least somewhat and understood the need to have him on the throne so they could survive the Others but that didn’t mean they were happy to fight for him. The Free Folk had been forced to leave their families behind at the gift as they marched south with him to declare war. 

He expected that once the Boltons were actually outside the walls the panic and fear would set in and they would certainly speak against him and likely insult him repeatedly as was their way, they had done the same to Mance even Jon knew. Jon expected that and was fine with it. They, like everyone else in the North, would once again kneel when he won and he didn’t need the Free Folk anymore besides his wargs. They were here to give him a castle to hold where he would make his stand. He needed to keep them in line to show the other Lords he was a King and not a foolish green boy but he did not need them raring to go just present and in line. 

That likely meant that he would need to keep the Free Folk separate from the men the Slates and Mormonts sent him. There was too much history between the Northerners and Free Folk to not expect conflict and it’s likely that the conflict would revolve around the King they had come here for. If Jon sided with the Free Folk in any issue then the Northern Lords whom he needed would take offense and if he sided with the Northerners then he would lose the Free Folk’s respect and possibly even service. The easiest way to deal with that would be to keep them separate and postpone any conflicts until he truly had all of their fear and not just awe. Once he had Rhaegal by his side he would break down those wheels and drag them into the new world he and his Daenerys were building whether they wanted it or not. They would have to set aside their vendetta’s for the good of the realm but that wasn’t something he could force yet.

Jon also suspected that the Free Folk were the ones more likely to openly defy Jon and having them separated from the Northerners would let him keep the North’s respect and not make him look weak or unworthy. He had to be two different people for each faction and the easiest way to hide his duplicity was by only letting each group see one version of him. Once he won here he could send most of the Free Folk back to the gift to help reinforce the Wall since Jon knew they needed it. He would only need his wargs soon and not the rest of them once he had a much larger army of his own. A King could not be friends with those who served beneath them or their equals and Jon couldn’t keep the Free Folk loyal yet while being distant and aloof. 

Additionally, since Jon presumed the Boltons and Lannisters both had spies amongst the armies on his side this arrangement allowed him to keep the existence of wargs away from the Northern Lords who thought it a myth. That was only a minor concern that they would overhear but keeping it secret was paramount and he would do everything he could to ensure it stayed that way. 

“Lord Brandon Slate,” Jon greeted cordially from the top of the walls as the small army that the Slates had brought to fight for him congregated outside the gates. “Thank you for coming, Houses Stark and Targaryen will remember this service.” He gestured to one of his men to open the gates and they did just that. 

“Lor-Your Grace,” a boy who presumed to be Lord Brandon Slate replied in a somewhat squeaky voice. “House Slate remembers their oaths of fealty to Houses Stark and Targaryen and as promised we will honor them in perpetuity. House Slate is yours to command, Your Grace.” Lord Slate recited as they had likely practiced before coming here. 

Lord Brandon Slate was a boy who was at most had only had eleven name days to date. He was a small child on a horse to large for his feet to comfortably reach the stirrups. They had likely switched him off of the pony not too far before meeting here as it would be an embarrassment to have the Lord of their house seated at the smallest horse, one could even take it as an insult to greet a King in such an uncouth way. The young Lord had long black hair that desperately needed to be cut and stood somewhat slouched in his saddle. If Jon hadn’t known who was coming then he never would have recognized the small boy who looked so unkempt as the Lord of House Slate. 

Jon forced a wide smile. “As King of the Seven Kingdoms, I appreciate your aid in our time of need. Lord Hother Umber will show to the barracks where we have had rooms prepared for you and your men. If you have need of anything don’t hesitate to ask.” 

Lord Brandon spoke up with a surprising ferocity for his age. “I only ask that you allow us to fight by your side and destroy the Boltons. Avenge my-our father’s deaths at the Red Wedding.” 

Jon smiled once again. “I can promise you that you and your men will be on the field beside me when we destroy the Boltons and put the North back in the rightful hands of Lady Sansa Stark.” That wasn’t technically a lie, they would be beside him on the field they just wouldn’t be fighting, only he would do that. He felt slightly guilty at taking Rickon’s inheritance and giving it to Sansa but if he was to break the wheel then that would be only the first time that he gave someone’s inheritance to an elder sister who in the new world would have the better claim. Perhaps he would give Rickon another castle somewhere that had belonged to some traitor but Winterfell was Sansa’s by right not his. 

“We also ask that you give us a share of the land once held by the Flint’s after they chose to side with the Boltons against the rightful King?” Lord Brandon had started sounding confident but the voice cracks and his uncertainty at his request had turned it into more of a question.

“I cannot promise you that. The Flint’s have not yet chosen to side with the Boltons against their King or the Lady of Winterfell and Warden of The North, Sansa Stark. They march in their army but their ignorance excuses them. Like all who come with the Boltons, they will be given the chance to surrender and bend the knee or die. Only then will I punish the Lords who fought by the Boltons' side, not their children. I will not punish a son or daughter for the sins of their father or else I would be forced to execute myself.” Jon said dryly. 

His reason for his refusal of their demand had been two-fold. He didn’t need their men and he was almost certain he wouldn’t lose them because of his decision to deny him the land they had requested but more importantly his refusal to punish any children for their parent’s crimes would go a long way in smoothing things over when he announced his engagement to Daenerys. They would hopefully be unable to use the Mad King’s daughter argument against his decision with his stubborn refusal to punish any child for their father’s crimes was a predominant characteristic of his reign before he was even betrothed to her. He also needed the support of all of the Northern Houses and making the Flints upset with his reign by giving away their land would not earn their support. Also, it aligned with his vision for their ideal world but that was the least important aspect of the decision he had made. 

Lord Brandon ducked his head in acceptance and deference before him, it was obvious he had hardly cared about the second part but his advisors had pressed him on it. Before he and who Jon assumed was his chief advisor rode through the gates to settle in and prepare for war with their men trailing behind them, 

Jon stepped back from the wall and hurriedly returned to his chambers where the moment he was alone he sighed and slumped in exhaustion. The Slates would be a valuable resource that he was glad to have already secured before the Whitehills arrived in just three days. He had already arranged to have certain stewards paid to lie about overhearing the Whitehills treachery so he imagined that he would be able to publicly out them as traitors but he didn’t imagine they would just give up and kneel over to die. He would have to defeat them in open combat in order to stop them from being able to betray him and to do so he would be glad to have all the men he could. He had wanted the Mormonts first but the winds were unkind so Lord Whitehill would arrive before them. 

-

Everything couldn’t have gone better in his arrangements to take care of the Whitehills. He had sent Jerji out with fifty gold dragons in an attempt to persuade some of the men in the Whitehills army to testify of their planned treachery against him. He didn’t care if they were actually aware of the plot of just willing to lie, as he had told Sam all those years ago, there could be honor in a lie if it was told for the right reason.

Jerji had done her job better than he expected. He had asked for her to get two men willing to speak on his behalf and testify of their plot but that was not to be. Instead of the two men, he had asked for her to bribe on his behalf she had managed to secure the loyalty of five men- well four men and one woman with only a mere thirty dragons. Either, the Whitehills were cruel overlords they wanted to be disposed of desperately or they were trying to gain the favor of a King, regardless of which it was it worked in his favor. 

Once again Jon stood up on the ramparts of the walls of Last Hearth looking down on the encroaching army. The Free Folk as they had always been were armed to the teeth and prepared for battle. They were too used to having to fight to survive to let themselves be weaponless unless it was completely unavoidable. That worked in Jon’s favor as it made them prepared for the conflict that was sure to come when he outed the Whitehills without Jon having to share his plan with them so they could betray him. 

He was glad Rickon had taken a liking to Lord Brandon Slate in their brief time together, it meant he could keep the Slate men uninvolved in the conflict here. Children are volatile and easily manipulated, it wasn’t impossible that his actions against the Whitehills would anger Lord Slate or that Lord Torrhen Whitehill would manipulate him and the Slate men into siding with him against Jon. 

With Rickon having coincidentally gone to play with Lord Slate right before the Whitehill army arrived removed the chance of the Slates choosing to join them since his advisor, Ser Carrund Slate did not have the authority to tell the Slate’s men to change their allegiances and side with the Whitehills. Lord Slate had no interest in the politics of ruling his household and had leapt at the chance to get out of the boring welcoming that the Whitehills were widely expected to receive. 

“King Jon!” Lord Torrhen Whitehill called up in greeting to Jon. 

“Lord Torrhen Whitehill,” Jon replied cooly with a blank mask in place. “What business do you have here?” 

Torrhen knelt and plunged his sword into the ground. “I’ve come here with all my seven-hundred men to pledge myself and my army to the service of the rightful king, Jon Targaryen.” He declared with a loud voice. “A Northerner will finally sit on the Iron Throne.”

Jon chuckled. “Really?” He smirked. “I was told a different tale, one where you planned on lying about joining my army then taking my head and delivering it to the Boltons on a spike so you could be granted control of the ironwood found in the Wolfswood and take Ironwrath from the Forresters for yourself.” 

Torrhen fell silent for a moment- not long but long enough that Jon could tell Varys’s accusations had been proven true. “How dare you accuse me of such treachery, you besmirch my name! My father died at the Red Wedding that they orchestrated!” He roared in protest. “What traitor dares to spread such vile rumors about me and my house?” 

Jon smirked at his indignation. “I believe it was your steward, Jorun. Isn’t that what you told my spy Jorun?” 

A somewhat weedy boy who was of no more than twelve namedays stepped forward. “I did, My L-Your Grace.” He stuttered faltering under the attention of Jon. 

Lord Torrhen guffawed and tried to shrug off the accusation. “You would trust the word of a single steward boy over the noble Lord Whitehill? The boy is obviously lying in hopes of gaining a reward from the King. Your naivety betrays you, Your Grace.”

“It is you who is mistaken, Lord Whitehill. I’ve been a Lord before, I’m not a fool enough to only trust one source, I have multiple willing to speak on your betrayal.” Jon replied cooly. 

Lord Torrhen huffed and puffed out his chest. “Bring forth these traitors then so we can hear their lies and deal with them.” 

Jon smiled. “I concur. Let’s find out who is telling the truth and deal with the traitors.” They had very different definitions of the term but the same concept. “Before I call forth the other witnesses, let me remind you that lying to the King is an act of High Treason and as such punishable by death. I will give you once chance right now to confess your treason and I will allow you and your men to leave here alive. If not, then any traitors will lose their heads.” Jon warned one final time. He did not want needless bloodshed, there would be enough of that when Winter came. 

Lord Torrhen huffed once more. “I am no traitor, Your Grace, House Whitehill wishes to stand by you and avenge the Red Wedding by destroying the Boltons and Lannisters. Do you prefer to die without our men?” 

Jon sighed and ignored his question. “Very well then, the crofter’s son, Janus, Briann Snow- your half-brother, and the guard Robert all told me the same tale.”

Lord Torrhen turned to glare at them as they timidly stepped forth at Jon’s call. “I am told that you agreed to lie about the Whitehill’s planned treachery? To betray your House?” 

One of them spoke up, with some indignation at Torrhens insulted tone. “I did not agree to lie, I would never do that to my King. It is the truth, the Whitehills are planning on taking your head, Your Grace, to the Boltons in exchange for land.” 

Lord Torrhen sneered. “And do tell me how a bastard would know that?” 

Who Jon could only now assume was Briann Snow replied with surprising passion about a lie he had agreed to sell. Perhaps he wasn’t treated properly as a noble bastard and held hostilities towards the trueborn Whitehills as a result. Regardless, it only served Jon’s purposes so he was more than okay with the turn of events. 

“I overheard a conversation between you and Harys.” He spat. “You told him and I quote, “When we deliver the Targaryen bastards head to Roose he will be forced to finally acknowledge that Ironwrath is our land. The Lannisters will owe us as well. This is our chance to make our name great. We would be fools not to take it, in spite of the risk.”

Torrhen actually paled slightly and Jon couldn’t help but wonder if this was a conversation, Briann Snow had actually overheard and not made up. Torrhen quickly regained his composure and chuckled lightly. “I see what this is, Your Grace, do you not?” He asked Jon.

Jon raised an eyebrow but said nothing. 

“This treacherous bastard is framing me in hope that you will name him Lord of House Whitehill for his testimony against you and paid Jorun as well. I should have expected this behavior out of a bastard. They are all like this-”

Jon cut him off with a snarl. “You forget yourself, Lord Torrhen. I too am a bastard.” 

One of the other witnesses Jon had paid to speak up spoke next, judging by their armor, it was the guard, Robert. “Y-Your Grace, I am ashamed to say that Lord Torrhen speaks truly. I ask your forgiveness but I accepted a bribe from a woman to tell of this scandal. I thought it was true at first, and they just wanted me to provide, His Grace, with evidence since that is what they told me but hearing of this bastards treachery, perhaps it is all a ploy by him to claim the ancestral seat of House Whitehill for himself.” 

Jon resisted the urge to scream in rage. He had been a fool to expect the Free Folk to know how to handle bribes. When they said they would do something they did it, they expected the people south of the wall to handle things the same way. They had no form of currency either and only traded, they had been a poor choice to send on this mission to bribe people to lie. They had assumed a bribe would take care of it, without needing to pay them more after the fact. They might have approached some loyalists with the offer, that Jerji had failed to recognize as the wrong people to bribe. Perhaps this entire negotiation was a ploy to cause his army to desert him. To make him seem as mad and paranoid as his father so no one would fight for him. If it was then it might be working.

To Jon’s horror, Sansa spoke next. “I’d argue that this is what Ramsay and his father want.” He had once again made the mistake of not trusting her enough so she had betrayed him. “This is their ploy. They want us divided or else they know that we could win. They fear us and are trying to have us defeat ourselves. Ramsay used the same tactic against Stannis and it worked. I implore you, brother to see reason and accept their aid. Don’t make the same mistakes that Stannis did.” 

He really should have learned that she had to know his plans or she would screw them up by now. But then again how was he to tell her that he had heard from Varys in Meereen who happened to know that and he had received the information faster than a raven could even travel here. He wondered how she would unintentionally foil his plans next. Would she warn their enemies in jest that Jon had a dragon? Perhaps it would be best to share that part with her before she screwed it up too. He could even claim his Daenerys had sent Rhaegal to aid him to help her accept their marriage and see that she wasn’t the Mad Queen. 

He would have to wait until Rhaegal was in the North to tell her but perhaps she could know beforehand. Even if someone overheard or she blabbed that would just cause him to accelerate his plan slightly, not ruin it completely. He needed to trust her at least a little if she was to play maybe the most crucial role in crowning Jon. 

Jon pinched his brow to stop himself from delving too deeply into that rabbit hole. He had to pay attention to the matter at hand, the Whitehills. This situation was salvageable, he could keep them out of his gates and stop them from betraying him, he might have to turn them away and might lose a good portion of his army but truthfully he didn’t need them, he only wanted them, for the statement he would send. If the Slates, Mormonts, and even the Free Folk abandoned him then he would just have to rapidly accelerate his plan and lose some of the fear and power he hoped to display. Rhaegal could pick off their armies while they marched here just as easily as at the Last Hearth while Jon stood atop the gates and declared himself as King. This was about making a statement, like Aegon the Conqueror had at Harenhal. Not just killing the Boltons. 

“Perhaps you are both right, perhaps this is just a ploy by Lord Bolton or his son. I can not take the chance that you are actually planning to commit treason and risk not only my life but the lives of all my men and the lives of every man and woman in the seven kingdoms on a maybe. If I turn you away I might still win, but if I give you entrance and you betray me I am guaranteed to lose. I cannot tell you if this treachery is real-” 

“I can!” A voice called out from a few pace behind Lord Torrhen Whitehill. He was similarly dressed, albeit less fancily with a plain steel suit of armor with the crest of House Whitehill on both the chest plate and the helm. 

Jon lifted a single eyebrow. “And who are you?” 

The man trotted his horse forward to stand in front of an indigent Lord Torrhen. He removed his helm and revealed the same blond hair and hard face as Lord Torrhen. “Gryff, Your Grace. Gryff Whitehill.” 

“I would like to testify of my brother’s planned treason.” Jon had to bite his lip to keep himself from smiling at this wonderful turn of events. Gryff was likely only testifying in hopes of becoming Lord Whitehill but Jon was completely fine with that, he had a real reason to refuse them now beyond simple suspicions. The Lords would be offended that he took the word of bastards and stewards over the word of a Lord but Gryff while not being the Lord was an heir and taking his word at face value was a totally justifiable decision. 

“We did indeed plan on betraying you, Your Grace,” Gryff confirmed causing Lord Torrhen to sputter. “My brother planned to pretend to join with you in hopes of betraying you and being able to take your head to the Boltons demanding Ironwrath from the Forresters as compensation for his service as you have accused him of.” 

Lord Torrhen was outraged at the accusation from his own brother. “My brother is lying!” He spat furiously. “He is obviously trying to usurp me of my birthright as Head of House Whitehill!” 

Jon said nothing as Gryff tore into his brother. “Your birthright?” He laughed. “You are the third son, you crippled Ebbert’s sword hand so he would join the citadel and you could be the heir.” 

Torrhen swore and stamped his feet. “I did no such thing, you have always had it out for me. You have always wanted to be our father’s heir.” He sneered with disdain. 

“I do not care about being the heir-” 

“Silence!” Jon roared annoyed with their pointless arguments and they fell silent. 

“Lord Gryff,” Jon addressed the younger Whitehill in a stern tone as if he was scolding children. “Tell me honestly, why are you telling me of your brother’s treachery?”

Jon of course expected some bullshit about how Jon was the King and his loyalty was to him alone or some lie about how it was the honorable thing to do so he was pleasantly surprised by Gryff’s heartfelt response. 

“My brother is a cruel and evil man.” Gryff sighed sadly. “He wanted my eldest brother sent to the greyscale colonies when he came down with the disease so he would be out of his way in the line of inheritance. He then crippled the second son, Ebbert in a spar where he nearly severed his wrist. Ebbert was pressured by our father into joining the citadel afterward, he wouldn’t be embarrassed by having a cripple as his heir. Torrhen was the heir after that.” 

“Your Grace, this is slander!” Torrhen roared.

“I said silence!” Jon declared firmly and he fell silent at his glare. Jon gestured for Gryff to continue his tale. 

Gryff’s hand drifted down to the sword he carried on his belt and his gloved fingers danced across the pommel. “I never cared for any of my brothers, all of them were awful towards me. They treated me as beneath them and as worth less than any of them. I still mourned my eldest brother’s death, I still felt Ebbert’s pain. Torrhen did not.” 

Jon could understand why Griff had felt the pain of his cruel brothers suffering. Sansa had been nothing but awful to him all his life but he had still worried for her when she had married Ramsay Bolton, he had still feared for her safety when he heard that King Tommen was demanding her head for murdering Joffrey. It was natural to care for one’s family regardless of their behavior. 

“Still I was loyal to my House and to him. He was still my blood even after all that he had done.” Gryff sighed. “But he did something else that was unforgivable. He betrayed my sister, Gwyn. She was the only one ever kind to me, who ever loved me as a brother.” 

“Gwyn fell in love with Asher Forrester and they carried on an affair for a little over a year, I knew about it from the beginning. I knew that they were in love and even lied to protect their secret. She was with Asher’s child and Torrhen found out. He spiked her drink with Moon Tea to kill the babe in her womb. He told our father and sent a raven to Lord Roderik Forrester of the location of their next date. The two arrived there and caught them in the act.” 

“Our houses have always been at conflict. Our father and Lord Roderik hated each other more than anything. They viewed their romance as a betrayal. They caught them in the act during their next tryst. They tore them apart. Lord Roderik banished his son to Essos and our father put our sister under house arrest. She is barely allowed to leave or see anyone other than her family and the stewards. He viewed her as soiled goods and tried to pawn her off to a husband.” 

He sighed once more and his hand tightened around his sword. “When my father died at the Red Wedding, Lord Torrhen was a thousand times worse to her. My father at least tried to find someone decent for her, my brother wants to sell her like a used whore. He doesn’t care how ugly or cruel her husband is, simply how they benefit him. 

“She is broken. Her spirit is crushed with the loss of her lover and the death of her unborn child. She is constantly depressed and hates everything. She was always so strong and stubborn, but now she is just a shell pining away for her lost love. My brother tore away her happiness and that is not something I can ever forgive, even if it means I must betray my house.”

Jon nodded at the end of his tale. “Lord Torrhen, is what he claims true? Are you trying to marry her to some wealthy Lord for your own self-interests?” 

Torrhen had no reason not to answer this question truthfully, it would be too easy to verify if he lied here. For the same reason, he knew Gryff was speaking the truth. There was too much detail that could be easily proven false for it to be a lie. 

Torrhen huffed and batted the question away. “I am trying to marry off my sister yes, as every Lord has done since the days when the North had their own kings.” He said defensively.

“No more,” Jon spoke simply. “No longer will women have their choice taken away from them, and be sold into awful marriages. Slavery is outlawed in Westeros yet we still sell our daughters sold off to the highest bidder. My Da-sister was sold to the Boltons and was worse off than any steward or even some slaves. She was raped and abused for her husband’s enjoyment. The only person who has a say in who a woman marries in my Kingdom is the woman herself. No one will be forced to marry ever again as long as I am King. If she chooses to marry Asher Forrester and he also wants to marry her then they can marry without any objections.” 

Torrhen was furious at Jon’s explanation. “I am the Lord of House Whitehill, not you!” He spat angrily. “I decide who my sister would marry as all of our forefathers have before me. I will not marry her off to some Forrester who would only steal our land! You overstep your boundaries, bastard.” 

Jon smirked at him falling for the bait he had given him. He had spoken truly when he promised to end arranged marriages. He knew the pain that they had caused his Daenerys and Sansa in the past but he had only brought up the bit about Asher Forrester in hopes of giving him a legitimate reason to execute the traitor. “You just disobeyed an order from your King, which is an act of treason and punishable by death.” 

He looked past Torrhen and at the rest of the Whitehill men congregated there. “You have two choices, you can apprehend your treasonous liege lord or you can disobey a direct order from your King and die alongside him. I have twice the men that you do and a wall to stand upon. Make no mistake, if you choose to defy me and protect the former Lord Torrhen Whitehill then you will lose any conflict that arises. Your choices are to side with me or death, there is no third choice.” 

Jon was unsurprised when Lord Torrhen was immediately swarmed by men on all sides, wanting to apprehend him and not suffer Jon’s wrath or promises of death. When the dust had cleared he was slightly disappointed to see that Lord Torrhen was already dead and covered in blood that gushed out of his slit throat with cuts riddling his entire body. Jon was not at all surprised by the outcome although the dragon regretted that he hadn’t been able to kill him himself, it had been far too long since he last killed someone. Besides, as Lord Stark used to say,  _ The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. _

He grabbed Sansa’s arm from where she stood behind him and dragged her close to him so they could speak quietly without being overheard. “Who is older, Gryff or his sister Gwyn?” He asked quietly. 

Sansa’s brow furrowed and she pursed her lips. “Gwyn if I’m remembering correctly, Gryff is the youngest. Why?” 

Jon smiled at her but did not respond to her instead, just stepping forward once more and addressing the Whitehill army once more. “Lord Torrhen Whitehill is dead. By the decree of King Jon, of Houses Stark and Targaryen, the first of his name, rightful King of the Andals, the Rhyonar, and the First Men; I hereby declare Gwyn Whitehill as the eldest living sibling of the previous Lord as Lady Whitehill and the Lady of Highpoint.” 

Jon was surprised to see Gryff grinning at his declaration that the Lordship would go to his sister and not him. Perhaps he really did care for his sister’s happiness so much and not just the power that being the Lord of House Whitehill would grant him. His reasons did not matter so much as long as he accepted it and didn’t oppose him. He knew that his decision to allow Gwyn to marry Asher Forrester if they were truly in love as Gryff claimed should buy him the loyalty of their new head of house for years to come. House Whitehill was a moderately powerful house and their support was valuable. 

He spoke directly to Gryff now as his sister was seemingly not here. “I cannot allow you in my gates after hearing of your brother’s plot that you conspired to take part in. I will not risk my men on hoping that you are loyal.”

Gryff nodded. “As you shouldn’t, Your Grace, it’s good to see that you have more sense than your cousin.” 

Jon clenched his jaw at that not so subtle insult of his brother but he didn’t rise to the obvious bait, he was sure he would be hearing a lot worse directed towards his brother when he called all the Lords to reaffirm their vows of fealty to House Targaryen and Stark. 

“I ask that you return home to Highpoint, if you choose to side with the Bolton’s then you will be shown no mercy and die alongside them.” 

Gryff frowned. “If I may, Your Grace, I would like to decline your offer. We will fight with you against the Boltons and avenge the death of our friends at the Red Wedding they orchestrated.” 

Jon’s face scrunched up in confusion. He had said that Jon was smart in not allowing them within his walls but now he was refusing to leave or side with the Boltons? For once Jon had no clue to his reasoning.

“I ask that you allow us to camp in the woods and when the time comes, come from behind and attack the Boltons from behind, cutting off their avenue of retreat,” Gryff explained. “House Whitehill is yours to command, Your Grace, we don’t have to be within your walls to fight by your side.” 

Jon couldn’t turn them down even if he wanted too, the worst-case scenario was they joined up with the Boltons and gave them another thousand men which were completely irrelevant to Jon’s plan. They had no real secrets to sell. The Whitehills were offering to take the most dangerous position in the battle if Jon had any intention of letting things get that far. They would be on the ground, facing a retreating horde that was fighting just to escape, a desperate man fought harder than any other and they would surely be desperate when they fled from a dragon. Turning them away would look even more terrible now and there was no legitimate reason to do so if they didn’t demand to be within the walls. 

“Very well I will grant your request, when you hear three blasts of the horn, you will know it’s time,” Jon said with a nod to Gryff. “Houses Stark and Targaryen thank you for your brave and loyal service in our time of need.” 

Gryff bowed as well and Jon turned away from him stepping down the wall with Sansa trailing behind, no doubt eager to discuss that interaction with the Whitehills and to try to advise him on battle plans as if she had any experience there. 

Jon didn’t say anything to her until they were seated in his solar, hopefully, free from any listening ears. He sat down in his hard-backed chair behind the desk and Sansa remained standing. Jon braced himself for what was sure to be a lecture on how they needed the men or whatever. Sanasa had a habit of forgetting that he was King except for when it was convenient for her to remember. 

“That was clever,” Sansa admitted. 

Jon was taken aback. “Huh?” Was his extremely eloquent reply. Sansa rarely if ever complimented his plans. Usually, she was too busy sabotaging them, this was a very pleasant surprise and it gave him hope that it would not cost him when he gave her his planned role for her once he defeated the Boltons. 

“Not the trusting a steward over a high Lord part or turning away seven hundred men, that was a foolish decision.” Sansa clarified. “The way you baited Lord Torrhen into giving you a reason to execute him and-” 

Jon frowned. “How?” Jon demanded, cutting her off. “I knew they planned to betray me, if I had let them in the gates they would have slaughtered half of our men. How was it a poor decision to not let my men die?” 

Sansa shook her head. “You didn’t know, you trusted the word of a handful of commoners who had every reason to lie without a second thought and admitted to being paid to do so. You presumed that they told the truth when they had every reason to lie. You still don’t know, you just know that Gryff has no plans to betray you, not that he didn’t use a bad situation you created.” 

Jon scowled. Sansa had to know things if they were to work together, he had to remember that, he couldn’t keep her as distant as he did everyone else. He needed her almost as much as she needed him as much as he wished he didn’t. “I was the one who paid them to lie, I wasn’t going to divulge my source on something so trivial.” 

Sansa frowned at being proved wrong but remained as obstinate as ever. “How can you be so sure that your source was telling the truth? That they are loyal to you? You just tried to turn down seven-hundred men on the word of one source? You might have risked everything by accepting them but while I’m no expert in military matters the Boltons have twice the men we do and you just turned down seven hundred men, how do you think you could win? They hold every advantage here, Jon.” 

Jon wasn’t stupid enough to trust Varys blindly, he certainly wasn’t loyal to Jon and Jon doubted that Varys was even loyal to Daenerys. From what he understood, Varys served the realm not anyone King or House but whoever he saw as the best candidate. Varys had no reason to want Jon dead, he needed a contingency if Daenerys died or went mad. Varys also had to know that Jon losing seven-hundred men was ultimately inconsequential in his chance of success against the Boltons. He knew Jon was Rhaegal and he was almost certain that Varys knew that Jon planned on calling Rhaegal to him for the battle. If he wanted Jon to lose then he would warn the Boltons of him having a dragon, not stop him from acquiring a few hundred men that would hardly matter in the affair. If they killed Rhaegal then the Boltons would win, and if they didn’t then he would win. Seven hundred men would hardly make a difference in the outcome.

Jon, of course, couldn’t tell Sansa any of that, so he settled for being as vague as always. “Do not lecture me on trust, sister.” He consciously chose to rub where the hole in his chest was from being murdered hoping she would drop the issue if he connected it to his murder, a topic even Sansa was somewhat sensitive around. “Seven hundred men will hardly matter in this conflict. I have a plan.” He reassured her placatingly. 

“You think your plan will let you overcome an army twice your size? You’re not…” She trailed off and then smiled. “You have another army.” She said quietly, drawing her own conclusions. “One larger than the Boltons army.” 

Jon blinked before nodding. “Something like that.” He could find out how loyal Sansa truly was to him now, what she would do with their new information. If the Boltons and Lannisters thought that he had another army, it wouldn’t hurt his plan at all. They wouldn’t choose to construct more ballistas because of it or to pack up and turn around. They would dig trenches to stop themselves from being cut down from behind by a mounted cavalry force as Stannis had done to Mance’s army and they might station guards facing out into the woods but he doubted it. The trenches would hardly matter to Jon when he could fly and all it would do was cut off their avenue of escape, forcing them to bend the knee or die instead of fleeing. There was no harm in her knowledge. If anything, it was actually better that this knowledge leak out to the Boltons. They would only be dooming themselves that way. 

Sansa frowned. “Are you sure that they will come? Can you really trust them?” She pressed. 

Jon closed his eyes and nodded. “I’m willing to stake my life on it.” 

Sansa smiled. “I’ll trust you then Jon… just know that if we lose I’ll kill myself before I let Ramsay touch me again.”

Jon grimaced. “It won’t come to that. I promise.” 

Sansa nodded and fell silent for an awkward moment. “Did you- did you actually mean what you said? Were you just trying to bait Lord Whitehill when you said only a woman could choose who they marry now? Not their fathers or brothers or…” She trailed off trying not to be too hopeful at the idea of his ideal world.

Jon nodded. “I did. You were sold to three different husbands, two of whom abused you. My Da-betrothed was sold by her brother to the Dothraki for an army. That can no longer be allowed to continue, maybe most of the marriages end up like father’s where he ended up loving your mother but if even one out of one-hundred ends up like the ones you and Daenerys suffered then they must all come to an end. We want to build a world where men and women are equal, where no one is a slave and arranged marriages are just that, a glorified version of slavery.” 

Sansa smiled brighter then he had ever seen her smile before. She leaned over the desk and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Jon.” She then turned and left without another word. 

Jon smiled. Perhaps there was hope for them working together, after all, perhaps they could truly be family and not just allies. Maybe he did need to be more transparent with her. All she needed was to be trusted and for him to look out for her. To keep her safe. He could use her as he needed too. 

-

Jon could not put this off any longer, the Boltons were only a week out and the Lannisters a few days behind them. He had to call Rhaegal to the North. He had to say goodbye to his Daenerys until she returned to Westeros to join him in their conquest. He was waiting for her atop their balcony for the final time before he left. He had been waiting for probably an hour now as he had come as soon as possible, even before his Daenerys was done with the days work so they would have as much time as possible together before he had to leave. Hopefully, she would be done early enough that they would be able to go somewhere first. 

Jon was ecstatic to finally see Rhaegal as a human and ride on his back, destroying all their enemies but that also meant leaving behind his Daenerys, and Jon would never want to do that. It meant betraying her, she had confided in him that she was afraid of all of her council leaving her to serve him. She had told him that he was the only one who would never side with her nephew over her and now he would be doing just that. He would still side with her and never try to put himself over her but he knew his leaving would crush her. 

The door pushed open and Jon’s heart sped up as he watched his Daenerys enter the room, enthralled in her conversation with Missandei in High Valyrian so Jon was clueless to most of what they were discussing, although his recent attempts to learn the language let him pick up some fragments of it. The moment she caught sight of him she said something indecipherable to Missandei who bowed to his Daenerys and left him and his Daenerys alone. 

Daenerys quickly closed the distance between them and stroked the top of his snout. “What’s wrong, Rhaegal? Why are you here so early?” She asked in a rush, knowing that Jon wouldn’t have come this early without a reason or perhaps she just felt something through her bond, he could sense traces of her strong emotions, could she do the same? That might be something worth looking into. 

Jon didn’t know how to share his sadness that he would be leaving her with her so he settled for just rubbing his head into her bosom once more, trying to get as close to her as possible- possibly for the final time. 

His Daenerys pulled away from him and made to sit in the lounge chair that she always sat in on their balcony when she would tell him stories while stroking the smooth scales on his neck. As much as Jon would love to do nothing but listen to her talk, they had to go somewhere before he could leave. So with that in mind, Jon lunged forward placing his head between her and the chair in order to block her path. 

His Daenerys backpedaled. “Why can’t I sit?” She demanded as she put her hands on her hips. There was no anger in her voice, just mild annoyance, and confusion. 

Jon said nothing seeing as how she wouldn’t understand it, instead just pressing his head lower to the ground and shaking it in what he hoped was a come hither motion. 

His Daenerys was as perceptive as ever and placed a hand on his scaly head. “You want me to climb on?” She asked in apparent confusion. Jon eagerly nodded his head, dislodging her hand from atop his head and tearing at the skin on her palm. Jon had to be more careful, his Daenerys was only a human-dragon, not a true literal fire-breathing dragon, like he was and was vulnerable to being hurt by his sudden movements.

To her credit, she did not cry out in pain or do anything more than bite her cute lip between her pearly white teeth to stifle her cry. “Why?” She asked absentmindedly, a question Jon again couldn’t really answer without showing her. “I’m not your rider.” She whispered faintly. 

From Jon’s observations, she was torn on if to go with him or refuse. A part of her seemed to want to fly again, she had loved it last time, that Jon knew but a part of her no doubt felt it would be irresponsible to leave Meereen with him. Last time she had left on Drogon’s back she had been gone for weeks, Jon wasn’t Drogon but there was no doubt some apprehension because of his abandonment. He was sure there was also some resistance to the concept of riding a dragon other than the one she was the rider of. As much as Jon might wish that he was, Jon was not who Daenerys was destined to ride but Drogon was. Jon was to be his own rider.

To Jon’s horror, his Daenerys turned away from him and walked back inside. She had to come with him, or at least sit out here and tell him stories. He couldn’t leave her like this, with one brief conversation that couldn’t even really be called that before they likely went months apart. He growled at her in an attempt to get her to come back but she ignored him and pushed open the doors to her chambers, stepping outside and turning to face the guards stationed outside her room. 

“If a person is jurnegēre for me, ivestragon them that I went on a kipagon with my dragon Rhaegal.” From the little Valyrian that Jon had learned, he was able to understand the gist of her statement, none of her message was all that complicated and it was easy to fill in the blanks. She wasn’t abandoning him or leaving, just being responsible and informing them that she would be leaving. She would be going for a ride with him for one final time before he left.

His Daenerys closed the door quietly and turned towards Jon with a huge grin that could feel. She practically sprinted towards him and clambered onto his back, her hands gripping his spinal ridges tightly- too tight in fact as she gripped at the base and caused Jon considerable discomfort. Still, Jon couldn’t truly care, he understood that she had no way of knowing that it hurt him. He seriously doubted that anyone had ever been able to talk to a dragon and feel their pain like he did in order to learn the proper form. He would correct her on that, along with a number of other things when they finally met in person. 

“Sōvegon” He heard his mother declare happily once she was properly settled and Jon eagerly took to the skies with a flap of his wings. His mother cried out in glee as they soared high above the world. 

His mother was enjoying flying too much to tell him stories this time but Jon still had a great time with her on his back. He dove down and his mother would squeal out in delight as he made his descent only to pull up at last second so his feet dragged along the water in the bay they flew laps around. They played around doing all sorts of daring dives for what was likely an hour before Jon finally turned away from the bay and flew towards the place he needed to take his Daenerys. 

“Turn around, Rhaegal.” His Daenerys urged him. “We can’t go too far, I have to get back to Meereen soon.” She pleaded. As much as it pained him to do so, Jon ignored her complaints. He knew that they had to do this before he left and that she would thank him for it later.

About an half hour into their journey, his Daenerys had enough of his ignoring her gentle suggestions. She kicked at Jon’s thick scales and tried to forcefully turn him around. He was mildly irritated by her actions but they didn’t hurt him and he knew why she was doing it and how his actions were hurting her. He wanted to turn around and bow to her demands to go back to Meereen but he couldn’t. They had to do this before he could leave.

Not too long after it became apparent that her blows did not faze Jon at all, his Daenerys resorted to pleading. “Please Rhaegal, we have to return to Meereen.” She begged. “They’ll all be worried sick. There’s nothing out here, let’s go home.” She pleaded. “The sun is almost down, we need to get back now!” Jon tried to tune out her requests that tore at his heart but it was not at all easy. He was extremely relieved when she fell silent once more, resigned to his stubborn refusal to listen to her in this matter. 

When Daenerys realized where they were going she panicked once more. “Please Rhaegal, let’s go back!” She begged desperately. Do you plan on abandoning me here as Drogon did?” She demanded when her begging once again fell on deaf ears. Jon ignored her again, they were almost there. 

“Is that…” His Daenerys asked as she caught sight of Drogon and Viserion nested on the top of a hill and immediately her protests fell silent. He knew she had struggled with them rarely present in Meereen and even more so with them refusing to come to her. They had to move past their issues or else Jon wasn’t sure his Daenerys would be safe without him in Meereen. 

Drogon had killed a child and Jon and Viserion had been locked up for it. Drogon was mad at Daenerys for locking up her brothers and Viserion was even more furious for the same reason. Jon had been upset with her at first but after their first meeting in the Dothraki sea, he nad moved past it. She had hated her decision and thought that it was fro the best. Jon probably would have made the same decision in her shoes. Daenerys was furious with Drogon for killing the child and even more upset about him abandoning her here in the Dothraki sea where Jon had just now taken her back to. 

Jon was no fool, he knew that him leaving Meereen would cause problems for his Daenerys. He knew that his presence and willingness to brutally slaughter anyone he caught murdering had almost single-handedly destroyed the Sons of the Harpies rebellion. When he was gone, he hoped that the presence of Drogon and Viserion in Meereen would at least temporarily deter any uprisings and he needed them to keep his Daenerys safe while Rhaegal was gone. 

His Daenerys sighed quietly and only because he was a dragon could Jon hear her. “How is it that you always know what I need better then even I do. Thank you, Rhaegal.”

Jon chirped happily and started his descent causing Daenerys to grip his ridges even harder at the base causing him more pain. They landed right next to Drogon and a sleeping Viserion. 

Daenerys clambered off of his back in a rush to get to Drogon after going so long without seeing her or Viserion. 

Drogon was not nearly as excited to see her again as she was to see her. He roared loudly to show his displeasure and woke Viserion from his slumber in the process. 

Viserion was even more displeased and joined in on the cacophony with his own roars of protest to Jon having brought her here. 

Jon roared as well, trying to convey that they needed to protect their mother while he was helping himself fight in the Northern parts of Westeros. 

“She locked us up!” Viserion hissed moving towards his Daenerys, intent on incinerating her even though Jon was sure Viserion knew that she was unburnt by now, after his last roasting of her failed miserably to harm her at all. Jon was sure that he didn’t actually want Daenerys dead or else he would just bite her head off, even as unburnt she could still die at the hands of a dragon if one wanted her dead. 

“Drogon killed a child,” Jon argued calmly through a quiet roar. “She was going what she had to do in order to protect her people. It was awful to punish us for Drogon’s crime but she was doing what she thought was best.” 

Drogon snorted at the accusation. “I did no such thing. I followed all of my mother’s rules and only ate the animals.” 

Jon paused at that revelation. He knew that Drogon was not lying so his Daenerys had to be wrong about Drogon killing a child. The man who had claimed that Drogon had killed their daughter was lying. His Daenerys had to know that with how troubled Jon knew she was by it. He didn’t know how to tell her, he might be able to convey it if she brought it up again tonight but otherwise, this rift would never heal between the two of them and he wasn’t sure that the man who had lied and caused him and his brother to be chain up would be punished if the news wasn’t delivered before they met in person in Westeros in a few months. 

“She chained us up for no reason!” Viserion declared with righteous anger at the bombshell that Drogon had just dropped. Jon supposed in a way he was right, she had thought she had a reason but that reason was false and they were imprisoned on false charges. 

In hindsight, this revelation made it much easier to understand Drogon’s erratic behavior since. Drogon hadn’t avoided his Daenerys because she had been angry at her for locking her brothers up but because she was scared that she too would be locked up for no reason at all. She had been upset that his Daenerys had blamed her for something that she hadn’t done. Drogon still cared for her which is why he’d saved her at the fighting pits but he had wanted her to feel the pain Jon and Viserion were feeling imprisoned and starving, betrayed by the one they had trusted so he had abandoned her to fend for herself until Jon had come along. 

“She didn’t know any better,” Jon said quietly to the dragons in their tongue. “She was wrong and she freed us because she knows she was wrong. She is still our mother and we have to protect her- you have to protect her when I leave to be with my rider.”

Daenerys butted into their conversation that she no doubt had no ability to understand and placed her hand on Viserion’s snout who surprisingly did not attempt to burn Daenerys but instead just stared at her and exhaled thick black smoke from his nostrils. “I’m sorry Viserion,” She said as she rubbed the white scales between his eyes. “I should have never locked you up, I just… after Drogon killed Zalla… I panicked. I feared that the next person my children killed would be Missandei or Grey Worm or Ser Barristan… I shouldn’t have punished you for Drogon’s crimes, you suffered through no fault of your own, and for that, I can only apologize. I won’t make that mistake again.” 

Jon roared loudly to try to get Daenerys’s attention so he could rebut that story. Drogon did not kill Zalla, she had to know so their bond could reform. His tactic was successful as she spun around immediately to look at him but she did not move away from Viserion at all. 

Jon shook his head back and forth rapidly, trying to express that she was wrong. 

His Daenerys looked at him for a moment and then quirked one delicately arched eyebrow. “You think I should have punished you and Viserion for your brother’s crimes?” She asked in complete confusion.

If Jon was in his human body then he would have no doubt facepalmed at the completely idiotic guess. She knew how much they hated that cave, how could she even think Jon thought that was a good idea? Jon shook his head instead and jerked his head over towards Drogon, he needed her to get to the real issue, Zalla. 

She followed where he was pointing at and looked towards Drogon. She chewed her bottom lip between her teeth and thought over what Jon could mean with his miming. “You think that I should have imprisoned Drogon for murdering Zalla instead of you and Viserion.”

Drogon growled menacingly at the very idea of being imprisoned. 

Jon groaned which sounded more like a growl coming from a dragon. She had to realize what he was trying to say. He shook his head at her answer and once again jerked his head to point at Drogon. 

His Daenerys closed her eyes and spoke softly as she came to the realization that Jon had intended for her to come to. “Drogon didn’t kill Zalla,” She whispered before re-opening her eyes and being treated to the view of Jon bobbing his head up and down. 

“Then who did?” She asked rhetorically, not getting an answer as she had certainly expected of him. “Was it you or Viserion?” She asked with one eyebrow raised ever so slightly. 

Jon shook his head once more and his Daenerys finally figured things out. Her hands clenched into fists at her side and her voice took on a dangerous edge. “Goatherd lied to me, my dragons were not responsible for Zalla’s death. He just used my hospitality for his own gain.” Jon nodded to confirm that what she said was true. 

His Daenerys no longer had eyes for him or even Viserion, instead opting to tiptoe towards a surprisingly docile Drogon. “I’m sorry Drogon,” She said quietly. “I should have trusted you before any random commoner. I should have known you would never have murdered an innocent little girl for no reason. I need you, Drogon. I’m your rider and together we’ll take back the seven kingdoms and burn all traitors starting with the vile man whose greed made me imprison your brothers.” 

Drogon lowered her neck and his Daenerys climbed onto her back, while flashing the biggest and most jubilant of all the smiles he had gotten from her. A part of Jon was jealous that Drogon had been the one to coax such ecstasy out of her but this was his doing. Jon was the reason they had reconciled. 

His Daenerys apparently agreed with him as she personally thanked him. “Thank you, Rhaegal… for setting all of this up. I’m sorry for how awful I was to you on the ride here, you were right I did need this.” 

Jon smiled and gave a slight nod as he watched Drogon take to the skies with his Daenerys and Viserion chasing at their heels. They would keep his Daenerys safe in Meereen and hopefully help fill some of the hole in her heart that there was sure to be when she realized that Jon had abandoned her. 

Jon took one last long look at the retreating forms of his siblings and his Daenerys before turning away and taking to the skies himself, heading in the opposite direction- northwest. It was time to finally head home and roast the Bolton and Lannister armies, declaring himself as their King in a show of public dominance. 

* * *

**Holy shit this was a long one, almost twice as long as any of the previous chapters. In fact, if you include the authors notes it is over twice as long as any other chapter. Perhaps, I should have broken it up but I don't like having back to back chapters from the same POV.**

**Things between Jon and Jorah were always going to be tense. Jon is in a lot of ways, everything Jorah wishes to be. He wields the Mormont family sword, has an actual chance of being with Daenerys, and is the object of her fascination in a way he never was. Jon was never going to be kind to a slaver who two of the biggest father figures in his life despised. Jorah was never going to be kind to Jon with him in his mind usurping Jorah's position. How easily they got along in the show was stupid and unrealistic.**

**Jon is very much so manipulating Daenerys and praying on her hopes and fears in these negotiations but when this takes place, Jon has no expectation that Daenerys will know that he is Rhaegal and he has to do this to her in order for her to possibly accept his offer. He is trying to get her to accept no matter what, and he can apologize later when she knows who he is.**

**The fact that the Lords of Westeros would choose him over Daenerys if it came to a Grand Council is pretty much a fact. Regardless, of his bastard status, there is a huge difference in the perception of being the foreign daughter of the Mad King and being the son of the much-beloved Prince Rhaegar, and the ward of the most honorable man in Westeros. Even the staunchest of Targaryen loyalists are likely to side with him if they had the choice between the two discounting military might.**

**Perception is everything in politics and when it comes to manipulating people. It doesn't matter who you truly are, only what people believe you are. Daenerys is a good Queen who cares about the people and is of a reasonably sound mind but people will never believe that of her when she is the one controlling people's perception of her. If Jon portrays himself as an honorable Stark primarily in his words, rather than a mad Targaryen; all of a sudden his opinion surrounding her can sway others because they believe him sane and honorable so if he supports her and is willing to share power with her then they will be forced to see, that she is not her father. If Daenerys tries to break the wheel, it's foreign, mad, and oppressive but if Jon does it then it's progressive. It is not actions that matter but how they are perceived. He knows from Daenerys's own admission that she desires to be seen as more than her father but whether it's fair or not, she won't be seen as that on her own for a long time.**

**I realize that keeping the bloodlines pure sounds like madness in most instances but Jon is an actual dragon. He knows that they are hostile towards those without Valyrian blood, and as such keeping the Valyrian bloodlines strong was always going to be a priority for him. He is going to be a bit of a blood purist in general when it comes to the blood of Valyria because of his connection to Rhaegal who cares about blood.**

**The value of Jon receiving such an important family heirloom from the Mormonts often goes understated. He was given their family sword, a Valyrian steel one at that. That's not something to be taken at all lightly. If House Mormont had died off entirely, it's fairly likely that Jon would have inherited their lands since Jon had been in a way declared as Jeor's heir. Having a King wielding their family sword especially since he received it before becoming a King, is going to be a good reason to support him as King because it means they will in a way have one of their own on the throne. The sword's of Kings are remembered in history and as such they would be remembered in history if he claims the throne.**

**The Others were always going to find a way through the wall with or without Viserion. Once the magic had weakened enough for them to be active again, the wall was always only going to be a temporary solution. I could probably name a hundred different ways to get around the wall, hoping they won't cross it is naive.**

**It is my headcanon that Jon didn't push Daenerys away because of their relation, in spite of his claiming so. Finding out who his parents were would absolutely make him terrified to love. His brother chose to love, lost his Kingdom for it, got tons of people killed and his love died because of it. Rhaegar chose to love, lost his Kingdom for it, got even more people killed, and his love died because of it. After finding out Rhaegar is his father, it is totally in character for Jon to refuse to let himself love in fear that history would repeat itself. He's selfless enough to choose others happiness over his own every time. He might also refuse to tell Daenerys his real reason for pushing her away, knowing that if he said it was because he feared their love was destined to end in tragedy, she would refuse to accept it. His pushing her away because of their relation, she would hate him for it but she would accept it and not think she could persuade him otherwise.**

**The argument that she is like her father is something that's going to come up often especially, before everyone truly believes that dragons are real. The people the Westerosi interact with most from Essos are the Masters and those in power who can travel to Westeros, slave owners, and merchants. Their sources are always going to be biased against her and play to their fears. Jon is very swift to destroy that argument from Sansa here.**

**Varys was always going to be the first to discover Jon's identity, if only because he is the only one with such intimate knowledge of the timelines surrounding his death and Rhaegal's behavior. Also, there are other better reasons that I won't spoil.**

**The Umbers considered joining Jon with the intent of betraying him but decided that it wasn't worth the risk. They weren't the only person who considered that, lots of people likely did such but the Whitehills were the only ones bold enough to actually try it.**

**Children are easily ruled by their emotions so it's not at all illogical that at least one child lord would ignore their advisors and join up with Jon in hopes of revenge for their family's deaths at the Red Wedding.**

**Why is Varys trying to make Jon survive? He cares very much about Westeros and doing what is best for the realm. The death of Jon, and Rhaegal would no doubt cause damage to Daenerys's mental state and could compromise her ability to rule. He also wants a backup in case Daenerys goes mad. Also also he believes in Jon's tales of the Others and killing the only person (To his knowledge) that had killed one before is setting them up to fail which obviously would not be what's best for the realm.**

**Jon is letting Daenerys know he is Rhaegal, if Varys does his part at least. For better, or for worse.**

**Jon learns that bribery and arranging evidence is not as easy as it sounds.**

**People are going to rage at me for the Whitehills not being accurate to the games but the games are technically not canon. I've never played the games, and have no intention to ever do so. The extent on what I know of the games is what is written on the House Whitehill AWOIAF Wiki page. The only reason I used them as the betraying House is that they and House Forrester are pretty much the only named lands closer to the Last Hearth than Winterfell. I knew people would be very upset if I portrayed House Forrester in a negative light at all so I used Whitehill.**

**Every fanfiction that I've seen that includes the Whitehills has Gryff and Torrhen as borderline psychopaths and clearly evil men. I took a different approach to Gryff's character. In the character bio on the wiki for every member of the Whitehill family it says that they were never kind to Gryf. The lone exception being Gwyn, rather than have him become hateful and psychopathic I had him develop an obsessive loyalty to the one person who treats him kindly. When her happiness was ruined, he's going to lash out and be hateful.**

**You can decide for yourself if Gryff is actually telling the truth when he exposes his brother's plot or is just seizing the opportunity that Jon provided him with to get rid of his much hated elder brother. Did Varys tell the truth about the Whitehill's deception or did he lie to truly test that Jon was Rhaegal and see if he would act on the fabricated information? That will never be answered.**

**If you hate the Whitehill's portrayal in this chapter then good news but they'll have a very minimalistic role in future chapters.**

**I originally had the scene with the dragons at the end going very differently with Jon trying to explain to Drogon that they couldn't kill humans without Daenerys's permission and convincing them to forgive her as he attempted to explain how humans thought. Then I rewatched the scene where she learns of Zalla's death at the hands of Drogon and came to the startling revelation that in the show universe, I can say with 99% certainty that Drogon did not kill Zalla.**

**If you watch the scene when Goatherd comes in cradling the body of Zalla, the skeleton is perfectly intact, not a single break anywhere. Was this likely just bad show-writing where they didn't think and just wanted the body to be easily recognized as a human? Almost certainly but that doesn't change that in-universe, the skeleton is intact.**

**First off, the idea that Drogon would attack a three year old girl for food like is commonly suggested is stupid. An adult goat is larger than a child, and has much more edible meat. Secondly, if Drogon had eaten the poor girl then her skeleton would almost certainly not be at all intact. It's established very early on that dragon bone is as strong as steel and the teeth are the strongest bones on 99% of all life. If he chomps down on a childs bones, they are going to be destroyed without a question. When we see his lair after he takes Daenerys to the Dothraki sea, the bones on the ground are in pieces not an entire skeleton without a single part disconnected.**

**Even if we accept that Drogon did not kill the girl for food, and did it because she touched him or something it's still highly unlikely that the skeleton remains intact when exposed to his flames. A three year old girl has fingers that are only 3MM's thick at the smallest parts. Her hands were entirely intact. Calcium melts at 1548 degree Fahrenheit. Drogons flames have gotten up to and probably over 10,000 degrees Fahrenheit in the show. Drogon would have to be intentionally holding back his flames to not damage the girl's bone structure at all, why would he do that if he did not intend to eat her and he was just attacking the girl for no good reason or because she angered him?**

**The bones were blackened but not melted at all. The only way that would happen is if the fire was under the melting point of calcium, like say the average temperature of your standard campfire which is only 930 degrees Fahrenheit, would destroy all of the skin and organs but not damage the bones at all.**

**Either Goatherd killed his own daughter to get money from Daenerys, the Harpies framed Drogon for it and intentionally went to someone who was sympathetic towards Daenerys so no one would suspect it was a trick, and because they knew he would agree to be sworn to silence on the matter, allowing people to believe make their own inferences about what happened to Zalla, or he is a Harpy who killed his own daughter to further the Harpies mission, hoping that she would chain her dragons as they know that Daenerys has a serious weakness when it comes to children. The point is that there is no plausible way that Drogon could realistically be responsible for Zalla's death.**

**Now in the books, Hazzea might have actually been killed by Drogon since her skeleton was just a pile of bones in a bag with no description of how damaged they are, also the power of dragon fire has not yet been shown to be as significant in the books. Zalla was not in the show though.**   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Friday we finally get another Arya chapter as she finally attempts to carry out her mission to kill Daario. It's another long one although not this long obviously. 


	22. Arya II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter is extremely dark and contains scenes pertaining to underage (Not explicitly shown) rape, thoughts of suicide, and probably other things that I should warn about. I am in no way justifying pedophilia, rape, suicide, and depression. This is a work of fiction and is not meant to reflect myself or glorify these things in any way. These things are obviously not okay. If you would like to skip the section, there is a triple line break after the scene but if that is still too much, there will be a detailed summary of the chapter in the endnotes.

A girl had expected her task to be easy but things had changed since a girl had last seen the Dragon Queen in Meereen and been crucified by her. The Dragons or well only the one dragon she supposed had grown intelligent. The Bronze and green dragon was terrifying. There was something about it that was familiar to a girl, as if it was someone she had once known and not as an enemy. Sometimes a girl thought that the dragon saw through her disguise even but he never did anything about it. It had to be her imagination or the foolish dreams of a little girl, as a girl would never have forgotten such a magnificent and terrifying creature being her friend. 

A girl had no desire to die and after watching the dragon descend on one would-be murderer and brutally rip them in half at their torso, she was sure that was to be her fate if she carried out her task. One of her faces, a sell-sword named Nyro had died in a similar way after getting skewered by a ballista. A girl knew firsthand how horrible that was and she would admit that she was scared the same would happen to her again if she acted against the Dragon Queen’s paramour. A girl was eager to serve the Many-Faced God and did not fear her death again but that didn’t mean she wanted to die during her mission. 

The dragon clearly did not hold any love for Daario Naharis at least, so she might be fine to kill him. It was also fiercely protective of the Dragon Queen who deigned to call herself the mother of that monster. A girl had thought that she could incite the dragon into attacking Daario Naharis because of that, if only she could get Daario caught by the dragon while being unfaithful to the Dragon Queen. 

A girl had been unable to seduce Daario Naharis into her bed, certainly not somewhere the dragon could see at least. He would flirt with her but whenever she advanced on him or tried to suggest doing something more, he would spurn her advances. The sellsword captain fancied himself in love with the Dragon Queen and deluded himself into thinking she reciprocated his feelings when it was clear to this girl that was not the case. She thought their relationship was purely physical, whereas Daario believed they were soulmates or something equally as stupid. 

A girl would not be able to use the dragon to kill Daario Naharis since, in spite of it’s intelligence to the things around it, it could not understand even the most basic of High Valyrian at all. It was not as simple as holding a conversation implicating Daario betraying the Dragon Queen for the dragon to overhear due to that particular issue. So a girl would have to use another method to give Daario the gift of the Red God. 

A girl could have easily murdered Daario Naharis herself- with poison or something of the sort but that wasn’t her mission. She had to make it appear as if Daario Naharis had not been murdered. She didn’t understand why the Many-Faced God wanted things done that way but a girl refused to fail in her task as she had back when she was Arya Stark. If a girl failed then she knew she would not get a third chance, the Many-Faced God would take her name instead this time as he should have done the last time. 

The dragon might have been a dead-end in her pursuit of Daario Naharis but that didn’t mean the Dragon Queen was. The green and bronze dragon leaving and being replaced by two dragons of more basic intelligence, is what had inspired a girl to try this method or more so what had happened that caused the other two dragons to return.

When the Dragon Queen had returned from her dragon ride on a different mount then when she had left in the middle of the night, a girl had been serving as a stewardess in the great pyramid. She had heard the Dragon Queen demand that Daario go and hunt down the man Goatherd. He had been forcefully brought before her that night and she had burnt him alive with the black dragon despite his protests and claims he was innocent. She had believed that the man had lied about his daughter’s death at the hands of her dragons. That was where a girl had learned that Goatherd claiming Drogon had murdered his daughter had caused the Dragon Queen to lock up her dragons. If she was willing to chain her dragons who she cared about more than anything and certainly more than Daario Naharis because they might have killed a random child, then what would she do to Daario Naharis if he committed the same crime? What if he did worse to a child? 

A girl knew firsthand from when she was a boy, a wise master in Meereen who had experienced the Dragon Queen’s love for all children firsthand. She had crucified him because the Masters had done the same to slave children on the road to Meereen. A boy had been one of the people against crucifying their children and thought that provoking the Dragon Queen was stupid but he had been ignored. The Dragon Queen hadn’t tried to ascertain his or the other Master’s guilt before crucifying them. They had hurt children so they would pay the price. Just like Daario Naharis would soon pay the price.

The Dragon Queen had a terrifying temper that could lead to her executing Daario without hearing a word from him otherwise. If a girl arranged the right circumstances, Daario would be dead at the hands of his Queen and a girl would have succeeded in her mission to go completely undetected. A girl knew the perfect method to frame Daario that would cause the Queen to show no mercy to anyone, even if she truly loved Daario she would be harsh in this matter. 

So a girl had made herself into a little girl- of only six name days, a pretty thing with Valyrian like features that she knew Daario Naharis would find alluring, and more importantly, the Dragon Queen knew that Daario Naharis found those features attractive. She couldn’t force Daario Naharis to rape her but she could let herself be raped by someone else, someone she was sure was selfish enough to not speak up and claim the guilt when she blamed it all on Daario Naharis. 

Her knowledge of the cities inhabitants that she had once gained from a face she had worn, the same one murdered by the Dragon Queen had let her identify the perfect person to rape her, Shiztor Akran. Shiztor Akran had always had a taste for younger women, the younger the better, in fact, and if he assumed he could get away with it he would have no problem raping her. He had raped his slaves often and even publically before the Dragon Queen had ended that and killed this girl. He would certainly not ever consider testifying on Daario’s behalf and risking himself. 

Of course, a girl could hardly know the name of her rapist so she couldn’t go to the Dragon Queen and accuse Daario outright of raping her. She had to be found by someone, completely coincidentally after her rape and she needed to be guaranteed that they would bring her before the Queen and she would cross Daario’s path. She also needed the time of her rape to perfectly align with when Daario would be out on patrol with no reliable alibi beside his own men who would be expected to vouch for him. 

It had taken a few days for a girl to hatch her scheme but she was confident it would work with the green and bronze dragon no longer present to eviscerate her would-be rapist in the act. Now that time had finally come and on the morrow, Daario Naharis would be dead. She was sure of that. She would return to the temple of the Many-Faced God having completed her mission and receive the next name for her list from her God. 

“Sir,” A girl said tugging on Shiztor’s arm from where he sat at a table in a tavern nursing a bottle of cheap ale. From her time during the last few days observing the man, she knew that he found being called Sir extremely arousing, especially from one as young as her. “Have you seen my mother?” Shiztor pulled his arm from her grip and sneered at her. She bit her lip and nibbled on it, drawing his eyes to her soft thin red lips. “We got separated when I went to the privy… and I can’t find her anywhere.” She allowed tears to fall from the corners of her eyes and sniffled loudly. 

Shiztor Akran’s sneer twisted into a rather perverted grin that she knew was meant to look like a kind and helpful smile. “I don’t know, sweet child.” His voice was slimy to the young girl’s ears. “What was her name?” He asked kindly as he took a girl’s much smaller hand in his own. 

“A-Astria.” A girl replied as she held folded her hands together in front of her waist, intentionally stuttering under the man’s attentions. She wanted to appear as a shy little girl- timid and weak as Shiztor liked them. 

Shiztor frowned and tapped his chin thoughtfully. “It sounds somewhat familiar, but I can’t remember where I’ve heard it.” A girl made sure she looked properly crestfallen at his response, and began to cry a little louder. 

Shiztor did as she expected and quickly made to shush her. He put his hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture and spoke softly. “Don’t cry my sweet child,” He cooed leaning in close enough that she could smell the thick alcohol in his breath. It reeked and a girl forced her nose to scrunch up ever so slightly in disgust. “Just because I can’t remember your mother’s name doesn’t mean I don’t know where she is. Tell me what she looks like.” He asked gently as his long spindly fingers rubbed at her shoulders and stroked them in a predatorial way. 

“S-she has s-silver hair like me and the prettiest blue eyes. She’s really big too. Much bigger than me but not daddy. Daddy is the biggest of all.” She jumped up as high as her small body could. “Daddy is this big,” she exclaimed, sticking her hand up as high as she could. 

Shiztor chuckled lowly. “I think I saw her leave, I can take you to her if you want…” He trailed off and glanced around the room to see if anyone was watching them, satisfied that no one was he smiled at her once more. “I’m sorry but what was your name, sweet one? I think I missed it.” 

A girl blushed and gave the name of the face she was wearing. “V-Viena, Sir.” A girl did not ask for his name, she knew he would not give it and it could make him suspicious, better that he stay uninvolved in the frame job. Knowing her rapists name could cause him problems that she did not want to cause or make him overeact and kill the girl after he raped her. Usually, he would leave the girls bleeding there and let them die but he wouldn’t kill them himself. He liked to believe he was above murder and that raping little girls and abandoning them was better. Or perhaps he just thought it was fun to leave the broken little girls a wreck and hating themselves if they lived or to let them die in agony- he was a sick bastard after all. After all, while a girl might have been friends with him in one life but never had she been him so she couldn’t say why he acted the way he did. 

“If you’ll follow me, I think I know where she is,” Shiztor said as he stood up and offered his hand to her. A girl hesitated and glanced down at her feet before taking the offered appendage and clenching her fingers around his forefingers. She followed him out of the tavern in silence. 

“She was just this way,” Shiztor told her as they turned down into an alleyway where a girl hoped that she would be raped. That alleyway happened to be one that one of the Dragon Queen’s handmaidens would walk past each Saturday night with a guard of two unsullied to go visit their brother who was camped amongst the Unsullied. She had the Dragon Queen’s ear and was sure to make sure a girl was brought before the Dragon Queen when she was found. 

A girl had a role to play and letting her thoughts wander would only serve to weaken her disguise and facade, she had to be raped right now. “Are you sure, she’s here?” A girl asked hesitantly as she stopped following him and peered around the corner. “M-maybe I should just go back and wait for my mama, she’ll come back for me.” 

“Your mother is just down here,” Shiztor promised her. “If you only follow me you’ll be reunited with her in only a few minutes.” 

A girl pretended to consider his promise. She chewed on her lip nervously and looked towards his feet. “If you say so… you’re very kind for helping me, Sir. I-It’s just down there it is dark and…” She quivered in place until Shiztor pressed down on her shoulders. “I’m afraid of the dark.” She whispered but she was sure she was loud enough that Shiztor heard her.

Shiztor smiled and knelt by her side. “Sometimes it’s hard to face your fears but think of what might happen to your mother if you don’t find her, she must be worried sick about you by now. If you want we can go together, alone you might be scared but together we can be brave.” 

A girl nodded timidly. “I would like that sir, thank you for being so brave.” A girl reached out and grabbed Shiztor’s hand once more. She ignored the lecherous grin that bloomed on his face when she did so as well as the very clear outline of his penis straining against the soft fabric of his blue robe.

They turned down the alleyway and ran into a dead-end, a cold hard stone house blocking the way forwards and she was sandwiched between the wall on three sides and Shiztor Akran blocking the way back. “Sir, she’s not here,” a girl cried while trembling and cowering against the wall as he advanced on her, all pretenses of being kind and helpful completely gone. “I want to go back.” She declared and stomped her foot as if she expected she could intimidate him into submission. 

Shiztor laughed. “You really are a stupid insipid little girl.” He said cruelly. “I never wanted to help you find your mother, I wanted to get you alone so I could make you a mother. You were stupid enough to believe my intentions were genuine.” 

A girl trembled and acted as most six year old girls would. “I’m not stupid,” she denied vehemently. “You are!” She declared. 

Shiztor chuckled once more. “No, my sweet child you are very much the one who is stupid.” 

“Shut up meanie!” A girl yelled. “I want to go home, I want my mama right now.” She cried out. “Take me to her n-” 

She was cut off by Shiztor backhanding her face and knocking her to the ground with the diamond on his ring tearing the skin of her right cheek and causing blood to run down her cheek. A girl allowed herself to cry at the pain and wailed loudly. 

“Do not speak to your father like that, my sweet child.” Shiztor scolded her while unlacing his breeches. “You will keep silent and not cry for help or I will cut your tongue out and if you still prove unruly, I will kill your mother. Is that understood?” 

A girl nodded after only a little hesitation and tried to stifle her sobs. “Yes.” 

Shiztor was unimpressed. “Yes what?” He prodded. 

“Yes sir.” She said quietly. 

“Better but still not correct. If you want to be stubborn, then I suppose you can learn who your daddy is the hard way.” 

He took a step towards where a girl was crouched and dropped his breeches letting his fat and obscene cock flop out. He grabbed a girl by her hair and dragged her to his cock until she was kneeling before him with his penis resting on her face. 

A girl whimpered as she looked up at him. Now a girl would be raped. 

* * *

**\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

* * *

When a girl regained her consciousness, she was alone in the alleyway, lying in a pool of her own vomit and blood. Her rapist had likely abandoned her and left her for dead. If she had truly been a girl of six name days she would probably die from the experience but a girl was not truly a girl of six name days. She was no one. 

A girl’s throat was extremely sore from when he had choked her with his cock until she lost consciousness and her rear end burned from his vicious sodomization of her that she had faded in and out of consciousness during. A girl had countless bruises marring her pale skin from his rough grip and she had chunks of her hair that had been torn out from how tightly he had gripped her hair in his fist when he had thrust forward into her. 

A girl remembered being raped from all of her faces that had been brutalized before she became no one, a girl had normal sex after she became no one and had thought she was prepared to be raped. A girl had not been ready at all. It had been so much worse then she remembered it being as this skin was violated for the first time. She had been a fool to think this so easy.

A girl was ugly now and it would horrify any kind-hearted person who looked on her and saw what had been done. They would stop at nothing to see the man who had done this punished properly. Just as a girl had planned, even if it had gotten a little bit out of control, the outcome was the same. She was still in control. 

A girl rolled over onto her stomach and suppressed the need to groan in pain. Her entire body burned at the sudden movement and she wanted nothing more than to lie there and stay unmoving until the Queen’s handmaiden came by and she could be found but a girl still had more work to do. She crawled on her chest and dragged herself over to the far left wall. 

The effort was incredibly exhausting and a girl had to stop multiple times as the pain became unbearable. A girl had been trained to withstand pain and not show any sign of her discomfort. She could control her face just like any other muscle but that didn’t mean that she didn’t hurt. Everything hurt. She had wanted the rape to be brutal but for the first time, a girl wondered if she could have found a better way to kill Daario Naharis and make it look like he was not murdered. Maybe, getting raped had been a poor plan, was pleasing the Many-Faced God really worth all of this? 

A girl shook her head and then winced at the movement. Of course, this was worth it. She had to please the Many-Faced God in everything she did. She belonged to him and him alone, she was no one, only the Many-Faced God was anyone important. There was only one God, the god of many faces, and the only thing one could say when he came calling was not today. No one could ever defeat the Many-Faced God, he had never lost a game, he was inevitable. 

A girl forced herself to resume her slow crawl on her belly towards the wall and collapsed when she made it. She laid there unmoving for a few minutes, ignoring the feeling of a rat prancing over her back. Calm as still water, she repeated to herself the lessons that had been taught to her when she had been a foolish little girl learning to water dance. 

Once a girl had calmed her racing heart she stuck her hand into a crack beneath the wall and blindly groped around in the stone, fingers tangling with cobwebs until she found what she had been searching for. A dagger adorned with a naked woman on the handle, one she had filched from Daario Naharis’s boot while he was on patrol this morning. She had worn a different face at the time- that had once belonged to a slave in Volantis, a rather gruff and common faced man so there would be no chance of him connecting the little girl Vienna, a slave girl from Lys to the person he might have barely noticed during his patrol. 

A girl tossed the weapon with all the might she could muster in her physical condition. The dagger clattered to the floor a few feet away from where a girl had awoken, just as she hoped. A girl laid by the wall for a few moments longer before finally forcing herself to move back to the spot she had been raped at.

The crawl back over there was even harder than the one to the blade, she had to stop every couple of inches and when she finally made it, wincing in pain at every smallest movement she just laid face down in a pile of her own vomit. Not just to sell her act either but also because she was just too exhausted and pain-ridden to move even another inch or roll over onto her back. If Shiztor sent someone to silence her a girl would be helpless to fight back and die here. She wasn’t sure that she didn’t want that anymore. Death would be a sweet release from her suffering.

A girl tried to stay awake until the Dragon Queen’s handmaiden arrived so she could scream for help at the optimal time but the pain was too much and she slipped out of consciousness once more. 

-

When a girl came to again she let out a loud moan involuntarily. Her head was throbbing and her entire body was stiff and achy. The alley was darker than it had been last time, did she sleep through the Dragon Queen’s handmaiden passing by? Was her rape for nothing? A girl couldn’t help but panic, she wouldn’t be able to go through that again if her plan failed today. She would have to find a different way to kill Daario Naharis. 

She forced herself to roll over and laid her head back in the pile of her own mostly dried vomit now. She looked up at the sky and immediately was crestfallen. The sky was a palish orange, the sun was too far over the horizon, she had slept through the time that the Dragon Queen’s handmaiden would pass by at. She usually took a different route back as even with a few unsullied escorting her, the Dragon Queen was too overprotective of her translator to let her take the alleys at night where Ser Barristan was once attacked by the Sons of the Harpy. The Harpies were quiet now, in the build-up to something huge no doubt but the threat still loomed over the Dragon Queen’s head. 

The black dragon was flying overhead casting a large shadow that made the alley appear much darker than it was. For once, a girl wished that it was the green and bronze one that had a tendency to protect defenseless girls like her. The one who would eviscerate anyone it caught trying to hurt her. The one that knew her but that was not that one but the black dread who burned the good masters of Astapor. 

A girl reached for the knife that once belonged to Daario Naharis by her side and the tips of her fingers grazed the blade cutting into her skin and coaxing a slight whimper from the girl. She reached as far as she could for the blad but couldn’t find a grip, laid on her back as she was. She had to move, to get the blade, or she could leave it there and remain defenseless praying that the next person to come down the alley would be a good samaritan who would take her to get medical help. Considering where she was she doubted that would be the case. 

She forced herself to sit up with considerable effort, tears streaming down her cheeks as she grunted at the considerable effort required to move. She locked her fingers around the handle of the knife and then slumped back down hard, her head banging into the pavement and jostling her, causing her headache to intensify. 

For a moment a girl considered giving herself to the god of many faces and using the blade to slit her own throat. That thought was quickly tossed aside, she already served the Many-Faced God as his vessel on this earth. She would be choosing to be someone by killing herself and a girl was not someone anymore. She was no one and no one had no desires of her own. She lived only to serve the Many-Faced God and her god had named Daario Naharis not a nameless girl. 

A girl pried the face of Viena off of her skin. If a girl was to try to survive then she needed to be able to fight in a skin she was somewhat comfortable in- even with her deplorable state. She would wear the face of Arya Stark for now, it was the skin she knew best. She knew it was extremely unlikely that she would stumble upon someone who would take her before the Dragon Queen and if they did while she just had to hope her currently atrocious state and her fourteen-year-old body would be enough to enrage the Dragon Queen against Daario Naharis. 

If she stumbled upon Theon Turncloak who was here in Meereen as a guest of the Dragon Queen since she had allied with his sister, then she would just have to pray that her disheveled and beaten state was enough to convince him that she wasn’t wearing the face of Arya Stark. She doubted that he would recognize her, it had been three years since Arya Stark had last seen Theon Turncloak and Arya Stark had always had rather bland features, they had called a girl, Arya Horseface for a reason after all. 

A girl shakily forced herself to her feet and immediately stumbled as pain shot through her hips. A girl forced herself to stay upright in spite of the sharp pains standing brought her. She had to get out of here and find help before someone just as bad as Shiztor, if not worse came along. A girl was not willing to die- not here- not now. A girl still had a life, and a purpose. She needed to continue to serve her God. The lessons of Syrio Forel were brought back to her mind, there was only one thing to say to death. “Not today,” A girl whispered her lips twitching slightly in spite of her extreme pain.

A girl had two options for avenues to exit the alleyway. She could go back the way she had come and to the main pavilion where the path was short but she was sure to encounter someone or she could go back around the long way to the more abandoned alleyways that exited on the road to the fighting pits that had since become the black dragon’s nest in Meereen. A girl knew that the homeless sometimes would be found on those alleys as well but there were less of them and she was sure she could defeat at least one frail old man even in this rather rough state. 

The path to the dragon’s nest was not only longer to get to a main road but was also longer to get to the city and medical help. She would exit by the dragon pit and still have to trek over a mile on foot to get help. She would not be going to the dragon pit, perhaps if the intelligent green and bronze dragon had still been there she might have gone there and hoped that the dragon would find help for her. That dragon was gone and the others were more likely to eat her than help her. It would be a long and hard journey back to the city that would no doubt bring her excruciating agony. She would probably be better off taking the other path. 

But a girl was scared, she really didn’t want to be raped again. She was completely naked, her dress torn to shreds by Shiztor, and was not at all able to accommodate her current body even if it wasn’t. What were the odds that she didn’t stumble upon some drunkard who wanted to have his wicked way with her on the way back? Even if there was a decent chance she didn’t run into anyone she couldn’t handle on the main road, was she willing to risk being raped again? The answer was a resounding no. If the Many-Faced God deciding that now was the time for a girl to die then she would die from her wounds, taking the longer and safer path- not while being raped. Her death wouldn’t be in such torment- not in this life. 

Her mind made up a girl stepped forward wincing at the movement and turned to her left. She would find the Unsullied that guarded the dragon’s nest from the outside and hope that they had mercy or the Queen had ordered them to help any obviously injured people. She had no doubt that they themselves would not care at all about her state, they had been conditioned to not feel anything even at the cruelest of torture. They would have no sympathy for the dying girl unless they had orders to do so. On the other hand, they were also cockless so they wouldn’t be able to rape her again, and even if they were able to, they were conditioned to have no desires of their own, that was why they were such effective soldiers. 

The journey down the alleys was hard and slow. She wanted to regularly stop to catch her breath and her entire body was aching. She still forced herself to keep moving, however, never stopping if she did, a girl was confident she would not ever move again - or at least for a long while. 

Taking the longer road might have been a mistake she acknowledged as she stepped on a loose piece of gravel and it embedded itself in the underside of her barefoot. She cursed quietly but continued to inch forwards without removing the gravel from her skin. The sun was almost gone from the sky now, night was falling, or perhaps the black dragon flying overhead was just blocking out the sunlight. Soon she would be alone stranded in that dark alleyway to be raped again. 

She had to keep moving if she wanted to find someone who could keep her safe while she recovered from being raped again. The Unsullied even if they wouldn’t help were supposed to stop crime from happening so they wouldn’t let her be harmed any farther. A girl was sure that she wasn’t too far from the dragon’s nest now. The Dragon had vanished from the sky not soon after being over her head. Either the Dragon was nesting elsewhere or she was very close to her destination. 

The night was dark and a girl had to hurry if she wanted to avoid any unsavory encounters so, despite the intense pain that a girl was in, she began to run. It burned every single time she moved but she really didn’t want to get raped again. Every single step caused her unbearable agony and nearly sent her sprawling to the ground but through sheer force of will, she managed to stay upright. She could hear the pounding of hoofs now, a horse slowly trotting along the pavement. Faster still she went. A girl had to be close to a populated area now. The trotting was getting louder.

She could hear voices now in Valyrian. “Do you ever…left boot….why do…” A woman’s voice spoke fading in and out with each step pound of the horse’s hoofs. “I see… thank…”

A girl ran faster now to try to catch whoever’s voice that was. It was a woman’s, surely they would take pity on her and help her get to safety. She did not know who it was but she had to get to them. She rounded a corner and broke into a full sprint. She could see them now, a woman with light hair riding in the company of four unsullied.

“Help!” A girl cried desperately, as loudly as she could ignoring the feel of gravel in her brutally damaged throat. A girl’s voice was hoarse and her cry went unheard. “Help!” Please!” A girl cried once more as her throat burned at having to speak. Again she went unheard. She was going to miss them, and be alone again- her salvation snatched from her. 

A girl ran even faster now. She had to get the woman’s attention. “Hel-” A girl coughed in protest to her attempt to scream. A girl stumbled and lost her footing when she coughed, her front foot stuttered and she fell flat on her face. The dagger that she had clung too, clattering noisily onto the stone. 

A girl couldn’t stop herself from crying out in pain which only served to increase the burning in her throat. Everything hurt as the cold stone scratched are her exposed and bruised skin from a girl’s treatment at the hands of her rapist. A girl tried to push herself to her feet but just could not find the strength. A girl had failed the Many-Faced God. She had lost the great game. A girl would lie here and die, possibly being raped again first. 

She could hear the pounding footsteps of a horse once more after the previous ones had fallen silent- getting closer to her now. A girl couldn’t even find the strength to look up and watch as another prospective savior rode by. Evidentally, she had taken a wrong turn somewhere and ended up on some road and not over by the dragon’s nest as she had planned. She laid there as the clapping of the horse’s hoofs got even louder still as if the horse had broken into a sprint. Eager to get past what she could only assume they thought was a dead body on the side of the road. 

The horses fell silent in an instant. Had they been that eager to rape her? Was their horse sprinting over to her vulnerable form sprawled out on the ground like a dog with a bone? A girl felt a hand press down on her exposed back, thankfully avoiding any of her bruises. Small mercies were all a girl had at this point. She closed her eyes and waited for the penetration. She felt a warm hand on her heavily bruised neck and reflexively recoiled at the pain- flinching away and scraping her forehead- even further on the stone. 

“She’s alive.” A voice said with what she thought sounded like relief. After all, who would want to rape a corpse? “Pick her up.” The voice said quietly. A girl cried. There was more than one of them. She would die while all of her holes were plundered by brutal evil men. “We’re going to get you help,” The voice said softly,.it sounded somewhat feminine. This person clearly had a twisted sense of the word help. She was not some whore who needed to be raped to be happy. “Just hang in there.” 

A girl felt a pair of strong arms slide under her chest as strong large hands grabbed onto her bruised side with no care for her injuries. No, a girl would not let herself be raped again. A girl could smash her own head into the pavement and kill herself to avoid the experience. She had done it before, she was positive she could do it again. A girl knew that it would be painful but it would end and she would not be raped again. She could serve the Many-Faced God better in death than she ever had in life. 

Her mind up, a girl forced herself to lift her head up with all the strength she could muster and thrashed forward violently trying to end it. Strong arms lifted her up before she made contact with the ground and lifted her up, away from the death she so desperately craved as her head slammed into nothingness, only causing her more pain from the harsh movement but it brought her no closer to death. The man cradled her to his chest and a girl was struck by the coldness of it- the man had thick leathers on. Armor, a girl thought to herself. Was he one of the Storm Crows? Wouldn’t that be ironic? Raped by the very people she wanted the Queen to believe she was raped by. Perhaps it would even be Daario Naharis in a cruel twist of fate.

A girl thrashed violently in her capture arms and tried to roll herself out of them. The man was not at all affected by her efforts as he turned her over so his arms were now under her back instead of her front. He obviously wanted to watch her face as he raped her just as Shiztor had loved to do. She would not give him the satisfaction of doing so. She would not open her eyes, she would at least deny them that small thing.

She felt another gentle touch on her shoulder, again thankfully avoiding any of her wounds. “We aren’t going to hurt you,” The man who seemed to be the leader of this bunch despite his rather feminine voice spoke gently. “You need medical attention, we’re going to get you some but we can’t do that if you refuse to let us carry you.” 

Would he really do that? Did they truly want to help? Was she not going to be raped or die again? Could she really allow herself this hope? Hesitantly a girl’s grey eyes opened expecting to be met by a jeering face before she was forcibly raped once more. Her grey orbs found soft violet eyes meeting her own gaze. A girl couldn’t contain her gasp. 

The voice had belonged to a woman the entire time. A woman with soft highborn features and silver hair. Daenerys Targaryen. The Many-Faced God was truly looking out for her, even after her complete failure, she had still been found by Daenerys Targaryen. Somehow she might still get Daairo Naharis killed. Why had she ever thought about abandoning the Many-Faced God? He clearly had proven himself all powerful once again, and was fixing her mistakes. 

A girl forced herself to blush. “I can walk, Your Grace,” She said stubbornly. The Dragon Queen opened her mouth to likely insist that she accept their help but after a moment closed it and nodded. “If you insist,” She turned towards the unsullied who carried her. “Set her down, and give her your horse.” She ordered him then faltered and turned back to her. “Wait, can you ride?” 

A girl scoffed. “Of course,” She answered automatically. Back when a girl had been Arya Stark, a girl had been the best rider in Winterfell despite being a small girl. She might not be Arya Stark anymore but she didn’t lose Arya Stark’s skills. The Queen was silent for a moment and then nodded once more and gestured for the unsullied to set her down. A girl could not contain the hiss of pain when she was set back on her feet by the unsullied causing the Dragon Queen to give her a look but she didn’t intervene. 

A girl shakily took a few steps forward ignoring the pain it caused her. She could tell the Dragon Queen was waiting for her to give up and admit she needed help but she couldn’t do that yet. She instead crouched down and retrieved the dagger she had lost her grip on when she fell. She lost her balance and fell onto her sore butt as her fingers wrapped around the hilt.

A girl scowled and pushed herself back to her feet, shakily rising back up, only to stumble once again. She would have fallen if not for the Dragon Queen steadying her. “Are you sure, you don’t want help?” The Dragon Queen asked gently. 

A girl scowled and turned towards her, “I’m fine, just help me mount my horse.” She said quietly as her throat groaned in protest. 

The Dragon Queen’s eyes caught the dagger in her hands as a girl had hoped it would. She twirled the dagger between her fingers and made sure that the handle shaped in the form of a naked woman flashed where the Queen’s gaze was trained. 

“May I see it?” The Dragon Queen demanded in a cold voice. It might have been phrased as a question but a girl knew that she was not giving her a choice. She was just fine with that, she wanted her to see it. A girl pinched her fingers around the blade and held out the handle to the Dragon Queen.

The Dragon Queen’s eyes narrowed as she got her first unblocked view of the weapon, with how much time Daario Naharis spent in the Queen’s bed chambers, a girl had no doubt that she recognized it. 

The Dragon Queen took the offered blade wordlessly and her brow furrowed as she stared at the weapon, as still as a statue. “Where did you get this?” The Queen asked with a tone tinged by anger. 

A girl wanted to smile at how easily the Dragon Queen had taken the bait but that would be suspicious so she forced herself to frown instead. “He left it behind after…” She trailed off in part intentionally but also because she was still traumatized by her rape and it was hard to admit verbally what she had allowed to happen. 

The Dragon Queen looked away from the blade in her hand and towards a girl. Her amethyst eyes flickered open and glanced at her. “Who is he? Who did this to you? What is his name?” She asked her voice surprisingly tender. 

A girl laughed bitterly. “What kind of thing would be foolish enough to give their name to their victim? He had long blue hair and a rather weird blue beard with three prongs.” A girl lied easily while describing Daario instead of Shiztor as much as a girl selfishly desired the latter dead. She had a mission to complete, Daario Naharis would die just as the Many-Faced God had declared. He had given her a second chance, and she would take it. 

The Dragon Queen’s face darkened as she realized who a girl was accusing of raping her. She turned on her heel and strode back towards her horse, with the dagger, without looking back at her. As she retreated from her she heard the Dragon Queen mutter under her breath. “I should have listened to Rhaegal. He was right. Of course he was, he’s always been right.” 

A girl smiled. That was a pleasant surprise, she didn’t know who this Rhaegal was but if they had advised her not to trust Daario or that he would do something awful then she was clearly more inclined to believe a girl’s lie. The Dragon Queen would do her part and offer up Daario Naharis to the Many-Faced God. 

“Come,” A voice cut into her musings. “The Queen said I am to give you my horse.” A girl blinked, she had forgotten that part. She had been stubborn and wanted to walk so she would be able to retrieve her dagger. Now she had to ride back the mile journey to the Queen’s pyramid of her own power. 

A girl nodded and let her be lead to his horse. He grabbed her sides and his fingers clenched around her bruised skin causing her to groan in pain. The Unsullied lifted her up onto the brown mount. A girl sat on her horse as her thighs burned with pain, brushing against the horse’s sides. Her ass stung even worse as she sat her bare bottom rested on the saddle. A girl grimaced and reached for the reigns so she could ride her horse. She lost her balance and slide off of the horse, tumbling back onto the pavement. 

  
A girl couldn’t stop her tears when she hit the ground. She was helpless, unable to even sit a horse. A girl might have succeeded in her mission but she would not have another one after this when she too joined the Many-Faced God in death soon. She needed to accept help as much as a girl did not want too or she would never make it to the castle. A girl rolled over on her back and looked up at the unsullied who had helped her mount the horse before. “I can’t do it, can you carry me?” She hissed through gritted teeth. 

The Unsullied did not show any emotion as a girl knew they wouldn’t. Despite what the Dragon Queen might claim, the unsullied were slaves trained to have no desires, will, or emotions of their own. “The Queen did not order me to carry you.” He said blankly. 

A girl grit her teeth. She had earlier. A girl wanted to scream at him. She had ordered them to carry her before she had refused. She would not though, there was no purpose in screaming at a wall of unsullied. They wouldn’t care for her feelings or needs, they simply followed orders. She would not resort to begging the Dragon Queen to be carried. The Unsullied wouldn’t know to take advantage of her weakness, the Queen in spite of the kindness she had shown so far had a more terrible side and could use her weakness against a girl. She also might get distracted from her anger at Daario or realize the broken girl that she was, was not worth losing her Sellsword Captain and bed warmer.

A girl forced herself to her feet shakily. She would not die here. She took a step towards the mount and stumbled. She cried out and took another step. That one was a girl’s undoing as she once again fell to the ground. She looked back to the unsullied and asked him once again to carry her, a bit louder this time so the Queen would hear. “Can you carry me? I can’t do it.” 

“I told you, the Queen did-” The unsullied replied but did not show annoyance. A girl would be shocked if he was even capable of feeling any. He was cut off by the Queen thankfully enough.

The Queen sat on her horse, a few yards away, and did not look back towards her or the unsullied when she spoke. “Carry her, Left Boot.” She said simply and then her horse started to race down the path, not looking back to see if they were following. The other three unsullied quickly followed behind her- no doubt trying to catch up to the Queen they were supposed to protect. That left a girl alone with Left Boot which seemed to be the name of the slave soldier.

He did not say anything as he sweeped her into his arms and carried his bridal style to the horse they were meant to ride. A girl wasn’t sure how but he somehow managed to mount the horse without the use of his hands. 

They rode in silence together- slowly, the only sound being the pounding of the horse’s hooves on the pavement. A girl yawned as the events of the last few hours caught up to her and the weariness of the situation set in. She leaned into the unsullied’s chest and closed her eyes. She was asleep only a moment later. 

-

When a girl next awoke she was lying in a bed, staring up at the yellow ceiling over her head.. There was a thin white blanket pulled up to her chin. Drafts of sunlight were peeking through the curtains casting her in a pale light. She had clearly been asleep for a while. Her throat still burned as did her other holes but the rest of her body was merely sore and aching rather than throbbing now. A girl licked her dry and swollen lips. “Water,” She rasped as her throat once again burned in protestation at the need to speak. 

An unknown girl with a tan and darker skin color, Dothraki if a girl wasn’t mistaken, stood over her in an instant holding out a flagon. A girl forced herself to sit up, grunting in pain as she did so. She took the water from the girl and drank slowly, sighing in relief as the cool liquid ran through her battered esophagus. She heard the handmaiden say something in what a girl believed was Dothraki- she wasn’t entirely fluent in the language, their faces had hardly been worn by this girl. She said something about the Khaleesi, a girl of course had to give no sign that she understood any of what she had said, that could arouse suspicion. She hid her reaction behind her flask as she took another long drink of the soothing liquid. 

The Dothraki girl had left by the time she had emptied her flask. She was alone once more, until the girl returned- hopefully with more water- her throat still stung from the cock that had been shoved down it, even a day after the event. 

A girl dropped the flagon to the floor and surveyed the room she would likely be staying in for the next few days as she recovered from the ordeal that she had chosen to subject herself to. The room was mostly barren, a usually unoccupied room clearly, it was surprisingly large though, much larger than a girl had expected the Dragon Queen to give a random commoner. She had been oddly compassionate towards her instead of just demanding vengeance as a girl had expected and wanted. 

The room had rich carpets of what looked to be the finest silks and her bed was softer than anything a girl had ever slept on in most of her lives. There was an armoire off in the corner to the right of her and at her feet. There was also a small table by the curtains to her left, up against the far wall. On the table was a plain brown wineskin that a girl presumed held water. 

A girl was ever so desperate for another drink of the cleansing liquid but that would require getting up and walking and she wasn’t sure she wanted to do that either. Her thighs still burned as did her vagina and any sudden movements would aggravate her. She could wait until the lady returned to have another drink.

After a few minutes a girl began to worry that she would never return, she knew it a silly concern and not at all reasonable but she worried about it all the same. Her mouth was so dry and it burned every time she took a breath. Perhaps she should rise up and go get the water for herself, she could rest over by the wall in the sunlight with the water for when she needed it. She would suffer to get there but she would finally be able to relax once she was over there. 

With her mind made up, a girl swung her legs to the side and shakily rose out of the soft bed and placed her feet on solid ground. She pushed her bottom off of the bed and stood for the first time. She bit her lip to stifle her cry of pain as her thighs burned in protest to her standing. 

She looked down at her feet, they were surprisingly clean. Curiously she looked down at her chest which well it was a bit hard to tell with the giant purple marks that marred her skin from her rape also looked clean. The Dragon Queen must have had someone wash her while she slept, no doubt not wanting to dirty the sheets with her filth. 

A girl took a deep breath to steady her pounding heart and hesitantly took a painful step forward. She bit down on her tongue once more to avoid crying out. She took another step as her eyes burned with unshed tears. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to steady herself. _Right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot,_ a girl repeated to herself with each step she took. _Right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot._ She focused on the feel of the soft rug beneath her feet, how it tickled against her bare skin. How the wind blew her hair so it tickled her against the side of her nose. The sound of the voices next door speaking too quietly for her to decipher. She would not focus on her pain, it accomplished nothing but making her suffering worse. 

A girl’s foot fell on cold stone rather than the soft rug for the first time and it sent a jolt up her body causing her eyes to flicker open. She was right next to the table holding the precious water she yearned so much for. She stumbled forward and grasped her shaking hands around the coarse wineskin and clutched it to her chest. She happily fell down at last and sat herself on the cool stone that felt extremely unpleasant on her bruised bare buttocks. She lifted the wineskin to her lips as she heard the doorknob jingle and took a long swig from the flask.

Her throat burned immediately and she spewed whatever she had drank back out, the sticky liquid spraying all over her chest. Whatever that was it had not been water. All it had done was aggravate her throat further. She heard a soft laugh coming from the doorway and her head quickly turned in that direction.

She was shocked to see the Dragon Queen herself standing in the doorway, laughing at the mess she had made of herself. A girl furrowed her eyebrows and glared at the Queen before remembering she was the Queen and more importantly she had to sympathize with her. She couldn’t antagonise her if she wanted her to kill Daario for what he had done to her.

Luckily for this girl, the Dragon Queen was not at all offended by her glare, instead, she smiled prettily and walked to the other side of the room. A girl’s eyes followed her form warily as the Queen walked until she stood next to the bed that a girl had awoken on and then stood facing the wall. A girl heard something that sounded like she was pouring a drink for herself. 

The Queen stepped away from the wall, holding a flagon of her own and walked over to where a girl was sitting. To a girl’s surprise, she actually knelt down and crossed her legs, sitting on the floor across from a girl. She held out her canteen to a girl and smiled. “What you just drank was mares milk, the Dothraki’s alcoholic drink of choice. The water was right by your bed.” The Queen explained, her voice full of mirth. “I’ll trade you,” She offered reaching for the wineskin that a girl held in her own hands. 

A girl gladly took the offered flask and practically threw her own wineskin to the Queen. She greedily stuffed the opening of her canteen into her mouth and signed in relief as the cold water assuaged her sore throat. Water ran down her chin as some of it missed her mouth entirely and splashed down her front but a girl did not care, she emptied her entire canteen in one long drink. 

She set the canteen down when she finished and blushed when she remembered that the Queen was watching her. The Queen smiled at her once more. “You want more?”

A girl nodded shyly. The Queen picked up the canteen that she had dropped and stood up to get her more. She did it herself, not called for a servant or made a girl do it but she had chosen to go refill her flask herself, she was a random stranger, a nobody. 

When the Queen returned and had sat herself on the floor once more, she handed the flask back to her. This time a girl drank more slowly, not wanting to inconvenience the Queen once again, she was a Queen, not a servant. “I owe you an apology.” The Queen spoke quietly. 

A girl was perplexed. “Your Grace?” She asked hoarsely in confusion. “You’ve done nothing but help me. You saved me.” 

The Queen sighed. “I could have stopped this from happening to you, I could have stopped him.” 

A girl shook her head. “How? You can’t be everywhere at once, Your Grace.” 

The Queen looked away from her and a girl could see she felt guilty for some reason from her facial expression. “Rhaegal tried to warn me that Daario wasn’t good. I should have listened to him, he was right about everything else. But I chose not to trust him on this one thing and you suffered for it.” 

A girl blinked in apparent confusion. “Whose this Raygal and Derio fellow?” She asked the Queen. She had to remember that she wasn’t supposed to know her rapist’s name.

The Queen frowned. “Rhaegal is my dragon, the green one.” She said in clarification and then sighed. “Daario is the captain of the Storm Crows and the man who raped you.” 

A girl flinched slightly at the mention of her rape, unable to help herself. “You know who did this to me?” She asked with unbridled rage, directing her desire for the death of Shiztor into a new target- the one the Many-Faced God had given her. As much as she wanted to, a girl could not kill her true rapist but she would kill the one who had made her subject herself to that. 

The Queen nodded with a dark look on my face. “I believe so. The dagger you had belongs to Daario Naharis. He claims innocence but once you are well enough to confirm his identity he will be put to death for his crimes.” 

A girl’s lip twitched. “I’m well enough now.” She declared adamantly. “The sooner that monster dies, the better.” The sooner she would be able to get out of here and back to the House of Black and White. The sooner she could forget that this disaster ever happened and be no one again. 

The Queen looked as if she wanted to protest for a moment but then sighed and nodded. “Do you want any clothing?: She placed a hand on a girl’s knee gently. “The Doctor said that it wouldn’t be wise to dress you yet, it could aggravate your wounds but I doubt you want to appear before him in such a vulnerable state.” 

A girl nodded shyly. “That would be much appreciated, Your Grace,” 

The Queen nodded and stood. “I’ll send Jhiqui to fetch you a gown then.” 

To a girl’s surprise, the Queen only stepped out for a moment to speak to someone before closing the door and re-entering the room. She then retook her seat beside a girl on the floor. “I never did catch your name, what is it?” The Queen asked curiously.

“Arya,” A girl answered without thinking, giving the name of the face that she currently wore. She quickly realized she had slipped up, Theon Turncloak would most likely recognize her when given her name but she couldn’t go back and change her response. For better or worse, she was now Arya to the queen as long as she wore this face.

The Queen smiled at her response. “I have a niece named Arya, it’s a very pretty name.” That was news to a girl but she showed no outwards reaction to the Queen’s revelation. Why would she think anything of the Queen having some family if she was a random commoner like she pretended to be? A girl only thought anything of it because she had thought herself well informed of the Queen. Why had a Targaryen given such a common Northern name to a girl? She could only assume that Arya was the name of one of Viserys Targaryen's bastards. Perhaps that was why she had given the name Arya to the Queen, it was the will of the Many-Faced God. The Queen would be more vengeful if a girl reminded her of her kin. “I’m Daenerys,” The Queen said, offering her hand to a girl as if they were equals.

A girl stared at her hand, in shock. “I know, Your Grace,” was her response. She did not take the Dragon Queen’s hand expecting it to be some kind of trick or test.

  
The Queen sighed at her response. “Please just call me, Daenerys. I was once like you, Arya.” She took her hand in hers and this time a girl did not pull away. “I too was raped, first by my brother, and later by my husband.” The Queen confessed.

A girl had not expected that and her eyes widened to nearly comical proportions. Her jaw went slack and hung open. “Why tell me this?” She asked cautiously. “What do you hope to accomplish, Your Gr-Daenerys.” 

The Queen frowned at a girl’s accusation that she had an angle and looked away from her. “I want you to know you’re not alone. That you have someone you can talk to. I blame myself for your rape-” A girl made to protest but the Queen cut her off with a raised hand. 

“I know you say I couldn’t have known but you haven’t met Rhaegal. You don’t understand how much he knows, he knows who is good and who is not, who’s lying and who’s not, he knows things that no man should be able to know.” She sighed. “I should have known when Rhaegal was so hostile towards Daario that he was evil and executed him then and there.” 

A girl wasn’t sure why she tried to assuage the Queen’s guilt but she did all the same. “You couldn’t have known, besides we don’t even know if this Daario is the one who raped me yet. You can hardly call yourself just if you execute someone before they commit a crime.” She hoped that her words to re-assure the surprisingly kind Queen did not come back to haunt her when she didn’t execute Daario because of them. 

The Queen- Daenerys tilted her head to the side, “Perhaps. Regardless of if Daario or someone else was the one who assaulted you, you have a place here as long as you would desire it. If Daario is not the perpetrator then I promise I will find whoever did this to you and burn them alive for their crimes.”

A girl wouldn’t deny that the Queen’s offer was tempting, she could forget about killing Daario and instead see Shiztar punished for his mistreatment of her. However, that would mean forsaking the Many-Faced God who was the only reason she was here in the first place and would make her rape purposeless so she squashed that desire and instead nodded. The Many-Faced God had saved her, she wouldn’t abandon him. “Thank You, Daenerys.” She said softly. 

The Queen made to say something in reply but was cut off by a knock on the door. She squeezed a girl’s hand and then let go and rose to her feet to answer the knock herself. She opened the door and in stepped the same Dothraki woman who had been there when she had first awoken. She was holding a cream-colored gown that looked to be made of a very soft silk. 

The Queen took the gown with a smile and then dismissed the Dothraki woman with a parting message a girl couldn’t interpret in Dothraki. She then turned back towards where a girl was sitting, watching the entire exchange. 

She offered her the garment. “This is made from rabbit hair, angora as the nobles call it. This was given to me at my wedding, I found it was the only thing I could wear over my heavily bruised skin after my first time without being in too much discomfort.” 

Once again a girl was shocked as she took the offered clothing. The Queen was offering a girl her own garment? This was not how she knew the Dragon Queen to behave. She knew that she cared for children but a girl was not wearing the face of a small child but instead that of almost a woman grown. Even if she had been wearing the face of Viena still, she hadn’t expected the Dragon Queen to be so kind, vengeance she had expected but not such extreme kindness to where she personally looked after her and gave her her own clothing. The Dragon Queen apparently had a much different side then she had seen in any of her other lives. 

“Do you need help getting dressed?” The Daenerys asked as a girl sat here simply holding the soft fabric in her hands- distracted by her thoughts. She clearly mistook her hesitation for inability. 

A girl shook her head and grabbed onto the table to pull herself back to her feet. She managed to contain her grunt of pain as she rose unsteadily to her feet. She unfolded the gown and put it on suffering much pain as she did so. She thought that at a few points Daenerys would intervene and demand that she accept help and a part of her wished that she would but she did no such thing so a girl forced herself to do it on her own. 

Daenerys had been right. The fabric was not as bad for her skin as even the sheets of her bed had been. There was some tenderness from the gown touching her skin but she ignored it. She was no one and no one did not let pain faze her. She was in control. She had to be in control.

Daenerys was once again unaware of a girl’s dilemma. “Do you need someone to carry you or do you want to walk? I’ll warn you that it is a bit far to the cells.” 

A girl frowned. “I can walk.” She declared adamantly and took a few steps towards the door before stumbling.

It was Daenerys’s turn to frown. “I’ll have Ser Barristan bring Daario to the audience chamber. That is closer and you won’t have to do any stairs at least.” 

A girl nodded her thanks and watched as Daenerys stepped outside once more to order someone to do as she requested. As a girl hobbled towards the door the Queen made no move to help her, understanding that a girl needed to do this thing on her own as she had likely once done herself. 

A girl and the Dragon Queen slowly made their way down the hallway- slowly, Daenerys showing incredible patience towards a girl’s sluggish pace. A girl knew she was laboring and should probably swallow her pride and accept help but she did not and the Queen did not push her at all to do so. As strange as it was, Daenerys was empathetic to a girl’s struggles and understood her need for independence.

They eventually arrived in the audience chamber and the Queen did not go up the steps to her bench she ruled from nor did she make a girl do so, instead she simply gestured to one of the serving girls, and two identical cushioned chairs were brought out for them.

The Queen then helped a girl sit down before taking her own seat beside her and grabbing a girl’s left hand. “Are you ready? Are you sure you want to do this?” Daenerys asked with what seemed to be real concern present in her surprisingly empathetic gaze. 

A girl nodded resolutely and the Queen sighed. “Bring them in,” She called out loudly in Valyrian to the unsullied who guarded the entrance to the room. 

The doors were opened and in walked Ser Barristand Selmy who a girl vaguely recognized from when she had been Arya Stark of Winterfell and had been in King’s Landing with a Arya Stark’s father and sister. Ser Barristan was the Lord Commander of King Robert’s Kingsguard a girl knew but now he served Daenerys Targaryen instead. 

More important to a girl was the man in chains beside him, Ser Daario Naharis. The man who had supposedly raped her and the man she had been given the name of by the Many-Faced God. His face was unkempt and his long blue hair was in knots. He obviously hadn’t enjoyed being thrown in fetters and tossed into a cell by the woman he loved, especially on the word of a small girl for a crime they both knew he did not actually commit.

However, a girl had a part to play so she shot to her feet in an apparent rage and glared at the broken sellsword. She felt a hand on her arm and looked back at Daenerys who tried to implore her to calm herself. 

A girl reluctantly retook her seat, trusting that Daenerys would see justice carried out but she had to let the Queen control this encounter. She had to keep herself in line or else it would reflect poorly on Daenerys and could potentially even see Daario punished less. 

Daario fell to his knees as Daenerys rose from her seat. “Please, My Queen, I love you. I would never lay with another woman. How could you think that I would betray you?”

Daenerys looked down her nose at him like he was nothing but dirt. “That is what you think this is about?” Daenerys demanded angrily but she did not raise her voice. “That I am angry over you sleeping with another woman?” The Queen scoffed. “I would not throw you in chains or execute you for warming someone else’s bed. This isn’t about me or your delusions of there being an us but about the fact that you raped an innocent girl.”

Daario had a look of genuine confusion on his face but the Queen did not seem to believe him thankfully, too blinded by her anger at what had happened to a girl. “What are you talking about? I love you, I would never sleep with anyone else. Whatever that brat has told you is nothing but a lie. I love you.” He repeated on his knees as he begged the Queen to spare him and instead imprison her. 

Thankfully Daenerys scoffed at his pleading and held up Daario’s dagger. “Do you take me for a fool? Arya had your dagger when we found her, it was left behind by her rapist..” She hesitated and looked back at her for a second. “Tell me Arya, was this man the one who raped you?” 

A girl did not hesitate to nod and rise from her own chair and take a step towards Daario Naharis while summoning all the anger she felt towards Shiztar to the front of her mind. “He is,” She snarled. “This is the one who abused me and left me to die in an alley.” 

She could feel both Daario and Ser Barristan’s eyes scanning her form, trying to figure out just who she was, and in Daario’s case why she would frame him of all people for raping her. She knew they probably didn’t believe her tale entirely but that didn’t matter as long as the Queen did and a girl knew that was the case. 

Daenerys nodded. “You heard Arya, Daario Naharis is guilty of raping a child and for that the punishment is death or the wall.”

“My dagger was stolen on patrol yesterday!” Daario Naharis protested loudly. “This Arya must have been the one to steal it so she could fake her rape. I am being set up! You have to believe me, My Queen." He pleaded

Ser Barristan’s brow furrowed. “Arya? Is that perchance Arya Stark?” He asked as he connected the dots between her obviously Northern Westerosi heritage and name. _Fuck._

A girl flinched. Giving Daenerys that name had definitely been a mistake. She could try to deny it and they might believe her but they could also ask Theon Turncloak and he would almost certainly confirm that Ser Barristan was right if he was looking to identify her. If she lied about that then they would wonder if she lied about the rape. “Yes.” A girl answered with her head held high. She knew that Daenerys hated the Starks for usurping her family and she was allied with Theon Turncloak who had killed Arya Stark’s brothers. Perhaps she would reward Daario for allegedly raping her now instead of punishing him. 

Daario tried to use the newfound information to his advantage as a girl had expected he would but not in the same way as she had thought he would. “Surely you see what this is my Queen, this is just the bastard trying to eliminate me so he can weaken you and steal your throne. He sent his cousin here as a whore so he could frame me for rape and eliminate a threat.” Daario cried desperately. “I did not rape her, my Queen, please believe me.” He begged pathetically once more. A girl was curious as to whose cousin Arya Stark was and who this bastard was. They could not be Jon Snow, he was her brother and Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, he was no threat to the Queen’s throne. She let her confusion show on her face, she didn’t think this was something that Arya Stark should know. 

Daenerys once against surprised a girl as she glanced back at her briefly with a soft expression before her face hardened and she turned back to Daario Naharis. “You think so lowly of my nephew that he would allow his cousin to be raped to kill one worthless man? A single sellsword? He is a Targaryen, not a fool. Rhaegal vouched for Prince Jon’s character and told me that he would bend the knee, and not usurp me, if I recall correctly he did the opposite for you. You raped my kin and betrayed my trust. For that, you will die today Daario Naharis.” The Queen vowed. 

A girl couldn’t contain her gasp of surprise at the existence of this Prince Jon character she was apparently related too. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, but who is this Prince Jon and how am I related to him? Why do you think that we are kin? The Starks and Targaryens never married.” 

The Queen faltered and turned back towards her with a soft expression and took a few steps towards her. “You don’t know?” She asked, clearly surprised. 

A girl shook her head and scowled. “I have no clue who this Prince figure is.” 

Daenerys sighed and reached for her hand giving it a tender squeeze. Your naturally born brother, Jon Snow is not actually your brother but your cousin, the son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen. He is unburnt like I am and is my nephew.” 

A girl did not know how to react to that revelation but she knew how Arya Stark would have reacted. “He’s my brother,” She scoffed. “Not a cousin, he’s my brother.” 

Daenerys tilted her head to the side slightly and raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps. Regardless, he is my kin and yours which makes us kin. Any offense against the Starks is an offense against me. He would be castrated and sent to the wall in Westeros for raping an innocent girl if I was feeling merciful. But my kin? For that, he will be burnt alive.” 

A girl couldn’t repress her snarl on behalf of Arya Stark at the Queen’s hypocrisy. “Then why does Theon Turncloak walk free? He killed my two youngest brothers yet you allow him to go unpunished.” It wasn’t her emotionally lashing out, it was tactical. She had to pretend to be Arya Stark, for now, there was no other reason for the outburst. 

To her shock, Daenerys laughed. “Theon Greyjoy is to take the black when we return to Westeros. For the little that it is worth, he claims that he did not kill the Stark boys but instead the miller’s son. He also claims he helped your sister escape from the Boltons. He has been punished for his crimes, just as Daario soon will be once I feed him to Rhaegal.”

“My Queen!” Daario protested patiently. “I swear I did not do anything, please spare me! I love you!” 

The Queen ignored his pleas and addressed her unsullied. “Fetch a carriage for me and Arya, attach a trailer to a Horse- no, bind his hands and let him walk behind the horse, the Dothraki way. He will suffer before he is granted the mercy of death by Rhaegal’s jaws 

A girl froze. The Dragon had known that Jon Snow was actually a Targaryen somehow- if that was actually the case. The Dragon had attacked Theon Turncloak in the streets once even, it clearly knew things it could not naturally know. What if the very intelligent dragon somehow realized that Daario was innocent and it was her who was lying? She couldn’t let the dragon be involved in the execution or else her lie might be exposed and she would fail in her mission. If it was the black or white one then a girl would have no fear but if the green one returned to execute Daario like the Queen seemed to believe would happen then her lie could be exposed. The dragon had some way of knowing things. She couldn’t take that chance. 

“Your-” She stopped herself. “She had to appeal to the Queen emotionally not formally, use her empathy for her situation and apparent love for the Starks to her advantage, to control the situation. “Aunt Daenerys, can I… I need to kill him myself. Please, let me do this… for closure.” A girl begged with real desperation just not for the same reason Daenerys would hopefully think she did.

Daenerys stopped, and turned back towards her with a raised eyebrow, opened her mouth then closed it before nodding in understanding and holding out Daario’s dagger to her. “I’ll allow it. Arya Stark will be the one to execute Daario.” 

Daario protested loudly once more as a girl took the dagger from Daenerys’s hand. Even Ser Barristan joined in on the protests calling it improper for her to serve as the Queen’s executioner.

Daenerys silenced them with a harsh glare. “She was the one wronged so she will be the one to collect the debt owed by him.” She turned towards one of the unsullied. “Gag him, Blue Ant.” She ordered

A girl stepped towards Daario as a cloth was shoved in his mouth. A girl would admit she wanted to hear his screams as his throat was slit and his life slipped away from his control and into the hands of the Many-Faced God. She did not ask for the gag to be removed, however, as Arya Stark probably shouldn’t have wanted to hear his screams, she would have to be content with just completing her mission and killing Daario Naharis. 

She scowled and wrapped her hand around a struggling Daario’s hair. She leaned down and whispered in his ear. “Valar Morghulis,” and then slit his throat with the dagger. 

Daario’s struggles slowed and then ceased altogether. Her hand was the only thing holding him up still and soon she let go of his hair and he slumped to the floor. He was with the Many-Faced God now. 

-

A girl had begged off conversing with the Dragon Queen about Jon Snow or the other Starks, pleading that she needed to rest. Thankfully, she had been understanding of her needs and the Queen had allowed her her rest but had made her promise to talk in the morning. A girl had tried to rest but she was too anxious to do so, she had been Arya Stark again and that meant she had failed the Many-Faced God.

She could not complete her mission of making it appear as if Daario Naharis had not been murdered if she fled now. Daenerys would believe she was not Arya Stark and if she had lied about that, then she might have lied about more and would believe that she or possibly Jon Snow as well had plotted to frame Daario for the crime as was suggested by him before he died. She would have failed to go undetected as her god had ordered.

Yet she could hardly stay and be Arya Stark again, as a random girl she could disappear immediately or even a few weeks after Daario had been killed and she doubted that Daenerys would have thought anything of it. As Arya Stark, any fleeing would look suspicious especially when she had already promised her that she would take her back to Westeros with her and re-unite her with the brother of Arya Stark, what a girl should have wanted more than anything. A girl would have no reason to flee. 

  
So a girl had failed no matter what she did, she could not stay and she could not leave. She had carried out one mission for the Many-Faced God and crossed a name off of his list but she would likely never again be able to serve her God.

A girl sighed and picked up the blood-stained knife on the nightstand that had once belonged to Daario Naharis. Perhaps it would be best to just slit her own throat and give herself back to the Many-Faced God. 

If she was to turn up dead in the morning with her throat slit open then she believed that Daenerys would understand why she had killed herself, after being raped- having gone through the same thing herself. Or perhaps they would believe one of the Storm Crows had slit her throat as reparation for their leader. Regardless, Daario Naharis would be dead and the face of Arya Stark would go on serving the Many-Faced God, even if it wasn’t her. She would have succeeded in her task and have paid for her slip-up at the same time. 

A girl heard her door open and her grip tightened on the knife as she quickly sat up. It was too dark to make out who the intruder was. Was that truly one of the Storm Crows coming to avenge their commander? They hadn’t knocked and it was the middle of the night so a girl doubted that it was a steward or a friendly visitor of any sort. The door clicked shut.

“The moon is black,” A voice called out from the doorway where she could see the faintest outline of a blurry figure, carrying a spear. If she had not known better, a girl might have thought them to be one of the unsullied but the greeting gave her pause. They spoke in the common tongue as well which a girl knew the Unsullied were incapable of doing.

“It is.” A girl replied after only a moment of hesitation.

“What three things do you know, that you did not know when you last left us?” The voice called out to her. A girl visibly relaxed at the familiar question. This was another servant of the Many-Faced God, not a Storm Crow or unsullied. 

A girl kept her face passive and gave no show of her emotions, despite the darkness as she replied. “A girl learned that the Dragon Queen was once raped by her brother and first husband.” 

The man in the doorway did not show any emotions either at what a girl was sure was a valuable truth to most men. Just further proof that this was one of the many servants of the Many-Faced God. “That is one,” he acknowledged.

“A girl learned that Jon Snow is not the bastard of Eddard Stak but is actually Rhaegar Targaryen’s bastard.” She answered evenly.

“That is two.”

A girl knew there was no chance of hiding the truth. “A girl has failed the Many-Faced God.”

“Did she now?” The man questioned. “Daario Naharis is dead by the Dragon Queen’s own hand, from what I can see a girl has passed this test with flying colors.” 

A girl shook her head. “A girl messed up. She let the Dragon Queen know that this face belonged to Arya Stark. Now a girl can no longer serve the Many-Faced God in life or else the Dragon Queen will know that this girl had orchestrated the death of Daario Naharis on false charges.”

“What you call failure I call a perfect success, the will of the only God. A girl has donned the mask of Arya Stark and now she can carry out the most important task that the Many-Faced God has ever assigned to anyone.” 

“What task is that?” She asked eagerly, unable to stop herself from showing some emotion. She was chosen for the most important of all tasks in service to their God. Her not the one a girl called Jaqen or the waif but her. This girl was the Many-Faced God’s chosen champion. 

“A man has cheated the Many-Faced God.” The man explained. “A man was granted the gift of the Red God but he denied it and came back to this life. He has made a mockery of the Many-Faced God but our God always gets his due.” 

“A girl has been given the name of this man. She is to find out how this man cheated the Many-Faced God. She is to make him suffer and break him, till the point where he begs for the gift of the Many-Faced God. A girl is to drive the man completely mad until he chooses to accept the gift of the Many-Faced God for himself. A girl will make the world know that no one can cheat the Many-Faced God. He always gets what is owed to him in the end. The world shall know no one is unreachable for him and they will remember to fear the God of Many Faces, above all else. The time for hiding in the shadows had come to an end, the world will remember that the Many-Faced God is the only one all powerful and they will remember that they need to fear him.”

Red hot anger seized this girl. Who would dare to cheat her god? Who thought they could defy the inevitable one. All men must die and despite what this man presumed, he was no exception to the rule. “What is this man’s name?”

“This man has gone by many names, but this girl knows him best by one name; Jon Snow.” The man whispered and then departed. 

It was time for a girl to be Arya Stark once again. 

* * *

**It's almost as if I had a specific reason for including that ever so controversial scene with Daario and Daenerys.**

**This chapter evolved a lot throughout the writing/planning phase of this and took far longer than any other to write. Originally this was supposed to be Chapter 17 with Jon as Rhaegal killing Daario after she implicated him in betraying Daenerys but I couldn't find a way to frame it that didn't sound completely stupid and cheesy. * also couldn't figure out how to frame it in a way where once Jon's being Rhaegal was exposed that it wouldn't come across as anything other than petty and jealous or cause complications between the two of them. It would have felt forced and out of character to have that happen. I scrapped the idea after failing to write anything decent repeatedly, and pushed the chapter back in my queue, trying to come up with something new. It was only well doing the research for the last chapter, and learning that Zalla wasn't actually killed by Drogon that this came into place.**

**Canonically Daenerys has a weakness for children- a major one at that. She crucifies the masters, because they crucified children without hearing a word about otherwise. She chains her dragons up on the word of one man with every reason to lie because he claims that Drogon killed his daughter. Her children who she values more than anyone else, and the key to claiming the throne but she chooses to lock them away and risk it all because they might have harmed an innocent child. As Arya correctly realized, if she was willing to chain her precious and valuable children because they harmed a child then she would have no issue doing the same to anyone else who hurt children.**

**There is a reason that she was supposed to kill Daario while remaining undetected that I feel should be obvious but it might not be. Either way, it will be revealed later on in the story.**

**Framing Daario for murder would have been easier, and certainly less controversial but that seems to be against how the faceless men operate. They punish Arya for taking the name of Meryn Trant/Daeron when she was not supposed to kill them. Is that for letting the wants of Arya Stark effect her or for killing someone without permission? In the show, it's framed as the latter although it's likely a combination of both.**

**There is a difference between remembering something, and actually experiencing it in the moment. Arya might have the memories of being raped from many of her faces- and think that it was something she could handle based on having those memories as our minds always warp the emotional experience of the event in retrospect. Yes, you remember intense pain when you were shot but remembering pain isn't the same as experiencing it in the moment. Arya is disconnected from reality at the start of the chapter due to thinking she is truly no one, and has no idea of who she is or what she can actually handle mentally.**

**Initially, I had planned on showing the rape in fairly graphic detail, not because I get off on that or anything but because I felt that the slow deterioration of her mental state, and realizing that she could still feel things would be important to the story but after vomiting while writing the horrible scene, and being so offput by it that I didn't work on this at all for the last three days, I just opted to cut the scene out.**

**This chapter spiraled out of control from there. Initially, I had planned on Missandei being the one to find her, and Arya indirectly manipulating Daenerys despite only a brief appearance from her. She was meant to pull off her mission without a hitch aside from the slight character development and realizations that she wasn't totally an emotionless unfeeling monster. She would return to Braavos and receive her next mission, and that would be the end of it. Then I wrote her falling unconscious without thinking and decided that the things going off without a hitch didn't really fit the context or the atrocities committed.**

**Having her remove the face of the little girl, and wear the face of Arya Stark in the aftermath of her rape, and having missed Missandei was not something I planned on having happen. I wrote the scene without thinking, realized what I had written a paragraphs later- went back and changed it. Then for some reason, I wrote the same scene again. I closed my laptop and thought about it for a day, before deciding that having some history between Arya and Daenerys would make her new mission have more emotional stakes for everyone involved.**

**Daenerys stumbles across Arya after going for a ride on Drogon, as unlike Rhaegal, Drogon does not taker her directly to the pyramid but prefers to land on the ground. You can call it coincidence, fate, or the will of the Many-Faced God as Arya does. Is it too convenient? Perhaps but it's not all good for Arya, if things had gone perfectly then she would have been found like Missandei as she had planned. Daenerys having been raped herself, is very much so compassionate towards Arya's plight even as a random stranger when she is no longer a little girl as she had planned. Oftentimes in real life when circumstances coincidentally perfectly align people credit their God, or destiny; Arya follows that pattern and is sucked back into her blind devotion to her god even if she is slightly more human now.**

**The unsullied are conditioned to be undeterred by their emotions. Relearning how to feel takes time, and compassion even longer. Arya being in pain, and crying out for help won't move most of them because that's what they've been conditioned to do. They're trained to follow orders and Daenerys had ordered him to help her to a horse- not carry her since she had refused that offer.**

**Even after I planned on her face being revealed to Daenerys, I still hadn't planned on her giving her name or being exposed as Arya Stark to her. I planned on her returning to Westeros alone as Arya, panicking when she found out that Daenerys was coming to Jon, and exposing herself to avoid Daenerys exposing her as a liar.**

**Faces are not something that people remember for years and years with perfect recall after only seeing each other a handful of times. When you have a face and a name, things become much clearer. Ser Barristan piecing together who she was after hearing her name was a somewhat logical conclusion.**

**The lack of reaction to Jon's resurrection from a literal death cult in the show was one of the biggest missed opportunities in the entire duration of the show. Even Arya didn't have much of a reaction to Jon's death and resurrection. In my mind, if someone were to hypothetically come back from the dead there is two possible ways a death cult would react. Either he would be the messiah, and their god in human flesh; or they would be the antichrist and public enemy #1 for making a mockery of their god. Considering how overpowered Team Targaryen already is with three dragons, and wargs it would be very boring to choose the first option. I always planned on sending Arya after Jon from the get-go although it was originally just to kill him rather than to break him.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Arya learns of the events surrounding Goatherd and why Daenerys imprisoned her dragons. With her mandate from the Many-Faced God requiring her to remain undetected in killing Daario, and not make it look like an assassination she opts to use Daenerys's evident weakness towards children and frame Daario so Daenerys will execute him. She opts to get herself raped as a six-year-old girl and frame Daario for it by planting his dagger that she filched from him at the crime scene. Things spiral out of control when she realizes that rape was worse than she remembered from her other faces having experienced it and her plans go awry when she falls unconscious after the experience and missed the window where Missandei would pass by on her way to visit her brother. Realizing that she missed her opportunity when she wakes up, she panics and fears that she'll be raped again so she removes the face of the little girl in favor of the face of Arya Stark that she can fight in, grabs Daario's dagger and takes the back alleys in hopes of avoiding people and chooses to follow those roads towards the dragon pit where she hopes that the presence of the Unsullied there would deter any would be rapists. She is found by Daenerys who having been raped herself, and being a decent human being is moved by compassion and opts to help her. She notices the dagger that Arya has, and recognizes it as Daario's. She asked her where she got it, and she claims that her blue-haired rapist left it. She's taken to the pyramid where Daenerys resides and wakes up in a very nice room. Daenerys is there, and confesses that she is responsible for Arya's rape because Rhaegal warned her that Daario was not to be trusted and she ignored him. Arya says she couldn't have known and Daenerys promises her that Daario will die for what he did to her, as soon as she was able to confirm his identity as her rapist. Arya insists that she is ready now. Daenerys asks for her name, and without thinking Arya names herself as Arya- the face she currently wears. Daenerys emphasizes with Arya, and confesses that she was raped as well by Drogo, and Viserys to an extent. When affronted with Daario, Arya confirms his identity as her rapist. Daenerys calls her Arya, and Ser Barristan connects the dots between her face and name, realizing that she is Arya Stark. Daario accuses Jon of setting him up to get rid of him and sending Arya to be raped, and weaken her position so he could claim the throne. Daenerys refuses to listen believing that he wasn't evil or stupid enough to send his cousin to be raped to take out one sellsword. She leans on Rhaegal's judgment of Jon as an ally, and Daario as an enemy believing him to be right about Daario and everything else. Arya is confused at the mention of Prince Jon who is apparently her cousin. Daenerys tells her that Jon is a Targaryen. Arya thinks her a hypocrite for being incised at Daario for raping her but not punishing Theon for killing Bran and Rickon. She explains that she did punish him, and that Bran and Rickon might still live. Daenerys is determined to let Rhaegal execute Daario, believing that he will return for this but Arya panics about the apparently future seeing dragon exposing her lies, and begs to kill Daario herself for closure. Daenerys grants her request. Arya realizes that by her identity being exposed, she would fail in her mission to go undetected if she left since she would have no reason to leave, if she chose to stay she would have to be Arya Stark again. She considers killing herself to continue to serve the Many-Faced God. Another faceless man shows up in her room at night, and tells her of Jon cheating their god. He says that her naming herself as Arya Stark is the will of their god because she is now in prime position to eliminate the one who mocked their god. She is given the mission to break Jon Snow. To drive him completely mad until he willingly gives himself back to the Many-Faced God. 
> 
> Next chapter is the battle of uh yeah I don't have a creative name for it yet. It will be a shared POV between both Jamie, and Jon and is another really long one, as is quickly becoming a trend. It should be up on next Friday.


	23. Jamie IV/Jon VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Really long authors note, Jamie learns of Cersei's death. Jamie gets sent to Last Hearth. Jon meets with Lyanna Mormont. Rhaegal versus the Bolton/Lannister army. Another really long authors note.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was beta'd by DracoInfernus. Thank you so much for the help with making this jumble of words readable.
> 
> A few lines from this chapter are copied almost directly from a Feast of Crows. I obviously do not own that book or the rest of Game of Thrones or ASOIAF. All rights go to George RR Martin and HBO bla bla bla. 

**A few notes about questions I was asked in reviews a hundred times in the last chapter so I feel the need to clarify a few things before we get onto this week's chapter.**

**The point that was brought up more than anything in response to the last chapter was the Faceless Men believe that their God is all Gods so wouldn't they consider Jon's resurrection by the Lord of Light as the will of their God? Yes, they do believe that their God is every God but they also believe that death is absolute and the absolute will of their God. According to George RR Martin himself in an interview, they literally worship death. So what happens when the Faceless Men are confronted by the fact that their two core beliefs can't co-exist? Do they admit that everything they've been doing for thousands of years is wrong and not necessarily a service to their God or do they admit that magic that doesn't come from their God can exist? It is much easier to believe that an opposing force can exist then it is to admit to being wrong for most people. Therefore, most of them will likely choose the latter and believe that the Red Priests are just working their own sorcery rather than that their God doesn't always want death and everything they have done is wrong. The faceless men are not evil but they are religious zealots who are very firm in their belief that death is the end all be all of life and undefeatable.**

**Another question that was frequently asked was "Why haven't the faceless men targeted Beric Dondarrion? Why haven't they targeted Bloodraven? Or Lady Stoneheart?" First of all, Stoneheart does not exist in the show and that is what this is primarily based on. I have no intention to bring her into the storyline though I suppose that this is theoretically still an option I could still take. As for Bloodraven, Brynden Rivers is a little over 120 not thousands of years old like he is said to be in the show. More so, the Faceless Men do not know that he exists since he's holed up in a cave north of the wall with the children of the forest and Bran too I guess. Beric is much the same story. His resurrection isn't widely believed to be a resurrection according to most the small folk. They believe that he was wounded in the fight with Ser Gregor, not killed, and simply recovered. He's just a rumor that they dismissed believing it to be impossible. Arya knew that she thought she saw him die at the hand of the hound but when it has been ingrained into her head that death cannot be defeated her brain warps the memory to fit that perception, a real-life occurrence that happens in peoples minds all the time. We even see this in a Feast for Crows with Sansa remembering Sandor having kissed her when he left during the battle of the blackwater despite how we know that did not actually happen. Memories are not at all infallible. So now to Arya it was just that Beric was greviously wounded- possibly fatally even and miraculously healed- not literally killed, and had died. When she finds out how Jon came back from the dead first hand, then she'll put the dots together and remember how Beric died and came back but in her disjointed mind, the pieces don't connect in the present time.**

**Also a point I thought I made clear in the last chapter about why Jon is such a high priority target compared to any other possible resurrections is how public his was. Thousands of people watched him defeat death and he openly boasts about it to show proof that the Others can exist and have an army of the dead. Hence the "he has made a mockery of the Many-Faced God" point that was repeated so often by the faceless men who gave Arya her mission. He is openly declaring that death is not undefeatable and that angers them more than how just his return would.**

**This is also why it is so important that Jon kill himself rather than be murdered. People have to know that they can not try to bring back the dead or else things will go terribly wrong. They need to know that one can not remain themselves after one comes back from the dead or everyone will try to bring back their loved ones and death will be made a fool. If he was simply murdered it would right the scales but it wouldn't discourage one from trying to replicate his resurrection which is a huge goal that they are endeavoring to accomplish.**

**The Many-Faced God being called the Red God was not a typo as Jaqen refers to him by that title in both the books and the show, and while him being saved from the fire- thus the God of Fire by Arya explaining most instances, it does not explain why he continues to refer to the Many-Faced God by that title after Arya has already claimed all three names that are owed and been given the coin to get passage to Bravos. There are a thousand Gods of Thunder and Red Gods in real life, I see no reason why Essos wouldn't also have two Gods who happen to share the same nickname.**

**I will confess to being disappointed that no one even considered the idea that the Faceless Man who gave Arya her mission wasn't a single rogue agent who wanted something different from the rest of the Faceless Man and was acting against the orders will to set her against Jon. That probably isn't the case in this instance but I will totally do stuff like that in the future where people think independently and secretly rebel against their leaders to accomplish their own agenda.**

**A surprising issue that people had with the last chapter was that Varys didn't know about a serial rapist in Meereen especially since he was able to get information from the wall through an embargo which honestly this isn't something that I ever considered having him know. Varys has sources in Westeros where he had spent 30 years building up a massive spy network. In Essos, Varys has been there for maybe six months and while he has some sources and little birds in Essos, those are only in high priority locations. He does not have spies who inform him of every single little thing that goes down. Even in the modern world with all the technology that we have today, government surveillance is not completely all-knowing. Moreover, even if Varys did know about the serial rapist in Meereen why would he ever mention something to Daenerys? He wants her to be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, not Queen of Meereen. If Daenerys knows that there is still crime ongoing and her people still are not safe then why would she choose to leave for Westeros when she's proven that she cares just as much if not more for the Meereeneese people than those of Essos? Telling her would only stop his goal from being accomplished. Varys is not meant to be a black and white good guy character. He will make very morally questionable decisions to accomplish his goals. Daario likely knew that crime was still going on as well but mentioning it to her would only serve to give him more work to do, and would again delay their trip to Westeros where he has a chance to gain more land and power for himself. So again why mention it? The Unsullied are essentially trained from birth to be emotionless robots so do they even recognize what is morally wrong or crime that needs to be reported? They're also not trained investigators of any sort who can find out who the criminals are. Even if they know that crime is happening, why would they assume that they should tell her of every crime that does not affect her in any way? No one who could possibly in the know has any real plausible motivation to report all the crimes in the city so to her there is none.**

**The rapist completely getting off scot-free for raping little girls and going on to do it again while an innocent man is punished was also meant to mimic the tragedy of our criminal justice system in the real world. This is a far too common occurrence in the real world and something that will always be a problem. Sometimes the courts get it wrong and an innocent man suffers for it. We are human and make mistakes, that is what being human is. Crime will never be completely eradicated, that is not at all plausible- even fear is not that powerful of a motivator to truly stop all crime.** **That being said I do currently plan on Shiztor eventually being punished for his crimes but it's also something that I could very easily scrap and honestly think it would work better thematically if I did so. The world is not a pretty utopian place where truth and justice always win in the end.**

**Hope that clears up any confusion, I apologize that I didn't manage to articulate that clearly in the last chapter. To the many people who have spoilery questions that they are asking in reviews, if you actually want spoilers, I have no problem giving them but please PM me on Fanfiction. net (same username) since I don't want to put spoilers in a public forum.**

* * *

Jamie was an oathbreaker. A Lannister through and through with no honor just like his father. He had deluded himself into thinking that he could be someone else, that he could have honor like Brienne but that's not who he was. He, like Cersei, was a monster and he enjoyed it.

When Catelyn Stark had released him, he had promised to bring her daughters back to her. He had failed there, Arya Stark was presumed dead and Sansa Stark was now married to Ramsay Bolton. He had sworn never to take up arms against the Starks or Tullys again yet here he was, marching on Riverrun to take the last fortress of the Tully's and crush the house he had sworn to protect. When he had been knighted he had sworn to protect the innocent yet here he was going to raid a castle where the majority of its denizens were innocent.

There was no denying who he was. He was a Lannister. He was the Kingslayer and an oathbreaker. He was not a good man. He was selfish. He was no knight. He had tried so hard to be one but there was no such thing as honorable knights. A knight was a paradox, their very oaths contradictory to each other.

Honor was just a delusion and one that Jamie had fallen into. The idea of honor was an idealistic concept that did not exist in the real world. Even the great Ned Stark, famed for his honor was not truly honorable. He had sired a bastard, breaking his wedding oaths. He had stood by King Robert even as children were slaughtered. He had been prepared to see an entire kingdom bleed because Rhaegar had taken his sister. Ned Stark was not honorable but as selfish as any other man.

Jamie had tried not to be selfish, to be good but it was impossible and only made everyone else's lives worse. His father would be ashamed of his ineptitude. His daughter was being hurt by his desire to be good. He should have just lied, taken their deal, and returned to Casterly Rock. Once back home, inform Cersei of the deal and let Trystane, Nymeria, and the rest of their Dornish escort be executed.

Sure, Myrcella's heart might be broken but that would heal and she would be safe from harm. Dorne might go to war, and thousands might die but he would be far from the first person to doom thousands of innocents to death for their own selfishness. As he had told Cersei, not too long ago, fuck everyone who isn't us. They did not care for him, so why would he care for them?

He needed to get back to King's Landing quickly before Nymeria Sand did something to his daughter. She had confronted him before he left for Riverrun and tried to convince him that they needed to return to Casterly Rock to officially name Myrcella as his heir. Still, an order from the King was something neither of them could protest. Still, her parting words would haunt him for his entire campaign. " _Do make sure you survive, Lord Jamie. If you don't then my hand would be forced and your daughter will be dead within days of your own death."_

So maybe it was a bit overkill but he had taken her words to heart and ensured that he would survive the battle against the Tully's. He had taken two-thousand men with him to Riverrun to take a castle garrisoned by maybe five-hundred men. The Freys themselves likely had fewer men there themselves and it was their castle. Still, he could hardly take chances with Myrcella's life at stake. He had to return alive so he could fix the problems he had created.

He would return to King's Landing and finally be a father to Tommen and Myrcella. He would no longer have to pretend to only be a distant uncle but actually, be allowed to connect with his kids. As long as Joffrey was believed to be Robert's son then Tommen was still his heir if he could be considered legitimized which he was sure they could arrange to have happen. Rather than giving a Martell Casterly Rock, a Lannister would rule the Seven Kingdoms. Even with Dorne and the Stormlands allied together, they couldn't stand against the combined Westerlands and Reach force. Tommen would be the first Lannister King, not a Baratheon one. Robert's dreadful line would end with him just as the Targaryen's had ended with the Mad King. The Lannisters would be the house on top at the end of the game.

"Lord Jamie," One of his soldiers panted as he rushed into the tent, bringing Jamie out of his thoughts. He had sent him as part of a party into Sallydance to scout out the area before the army arrived there for the night to stock up on supplies and march on to Riverrun. The man was completely out of breath from his urgency in returning. Had he found trouble?

Jamie was on his feet in an instant. "What seems to be the issue, Ser? Are we expecting to encounter a hostile force?"

The man shook his head and stood there to catcher his breath. "No conflict, the road is clear of any aggressors. We should have an easy march." He huffed. "Just urgent news that you will want to hear immediately."

Jamie nodded in some relief. He was slightly curious as to what the news was that was so urgent that it couldn't wait but he was relieved that there was oncoming conflict. Every conflict brought a chance of his and by extension Myrcella's death. He would take any chances when it came to her, even if it led to him being labeled as a craven by his own men. Her life was worth more than his pride. "Enlighten me," He ordered.

"There's no easy way to say this, my Lord… the Queen lost her trial and was executed for infidelity towards the King." The soldier informed him somewhat hesitantly.

Jamie nodded. Tommen would be crushed by his dear Margaery's death. He had been besotted with her. It gave Jamie all the more urgency to hurry back to King's Landing and expose the Martells. He and Myrcella needed to be with Tommen in order to support his son in this no doubt difficult time. Tommen needed a father now since he almost certainly wouldn't want his mother after she had orchestrated this.

His time apart from Cersei had only amplified his hatred for her, this was just another spark to what was already a raging inferno. Tyrion's parting words echoed around in his head constantly. _Cersei is a lying whore, she's been fucking Lancel, and Osmund Kettleblack, and probably Moon Boy for all I know._ He would have given his life for her, he would kill for her- he had killed for her- for them to be together. She had spat on their relationship and his feelings and shown him how meaningless his love for her was in her eyes.

She had accused Tyrion of a crime he probably didn't commit with little evidence and had tried to orchestrate his death with no real evidence. She only had the hobbled together testimonies and words taken out of context. He was her brother but she hadn't cared, she only saw him as the monster who had killed their mother.

She had kept him from his daughter since the day she was born. He had been forbidden from being at all close to his children, from having any relationship at all with them. They had been strangers to him, closer to his brother than the brother their mother hated than the one she claimed to love. Too much risk that Robert would find out they were his own children or some equally terrible excuse. She had done the same again by sending him on this pointless expedition to claim Riverrun for the Freys. She did not want him to have any say in his daughter's life. She had likely sent him in hopes that he would die and Myrcella would never get to leave her clutches

Now she had taken another step. She had targeted his son and that was unforgivable. She had let his son's wife be executed for a crime they both knew she did not commit. Her imprisoning Margaery had been understandable, possibly even an honest misunderstanding. That had only been her usual antics and selfishness, she hadn't known how much Tommen felt for his wife. But now she had seen how broken up Tommen was over his wife's imprisonment and yet she hadn't cared. Her lust for power and control had to lead her procuring fake evidence to get Margaery killed so she could have Tommern to herself. Her fear had made her decision making even more irrational than usual.

Jamie would return to King's Landing after this and see Cersei pay for her transgressions. He would deliver justice for Margaery, for Tyrion, for Myrcella, for Tommen, and most importantly, himself. He would be there for his children in this time of emotional turmoil. He like his father had would rule the Westerlands with an iron fist. He like his father would show no mercy to traitors and those who schemed against the Lannisters. He was his father's heir now, whether he wanted to be or not, and he would do his father proud. For in spite of all his numerous faults he was still his father. _And Cersei was still his sister, nothing more._

Jamie closed his eyes and nodded. "We'll stop marching for the day, hold a vigil for Queen Margaery."

The soldier stuttered but did not leave. "L-lord Jamie, Q-q-q-"

Jamie glared at him. "Spit it out already, and then do as I asked." He snapped impatiently.

"A-apologies Lord Jamie but there is no easy way to say this. Queen Margaery was found innocent on all charges, Queen Cersei was the guilty one who was executed for infidelity."

Jamie stumbled back as if he had been pushed and fell back onto the hard metal chair. He had never even considered the possibility of Cersei being found guilty, she had Ser Gregor as her champion. She would never lose a trial by combat. It simply wasn't possible. "Whatever you heard was a lie, Ser Greg-Robert Strong would not lose a trial by combat. You should know better than to report baseless rumors." He said quietly with a warning glare towards the soldier who had given him the report.

"Ser Robert was not her champion," The scout explained. "I was told he absconded with Qyburn after he was arrested during Margaery's trial. Ser Balon Swann fought as your sister's champion and was defeated by Ser Loras Tyrell." He shuffled his feet. "At least that is what I heard in the village."

Jamie nodded absentmindedly. Cersei was dead. She would no longer stand between him and his children. Cersei was dead. The woman who had birthed his children. Cersei was dead. The woman who had betrayed him. Cersei was dead. His twin sister and lover. Cersei was dead. The one who he hated more than anything. Cersei was dead. The one he loved more than any other. Cersei was dead.

"Should we hold a vigil for her- your sister?" The scout who had informed him of this wonderful, no- awful, no- freeing- no emotional life-changing news asked somewhat timidly.

Jamie found himself shaking his head. "We have no time to waste, we march onwards, no stopping." He declared. "We must make haste for Riverrun, so I- so we can all return home to our families."

His children needed him more now than ever before after having just lost their mother. The Tyrells were likely now in control of the crown and would not hesitate to use his children to further his own ambitions. They needed him there to protect them.

He could deal with his conflicted feelings over the possible death of Cersei later, right now he had to take Riverrun so he could return home to his children. He couldn't afford to be distracted right now, distractions got people killed in battle and his death would result in Myrcella's with not even Cersei in all her cruelty there to protect her. Would Tommen even be safe? He was just as accessible as Myrcella was now. He had to claim Riverrun and then race back to the capital.

* * *

Finally, after almost a month of marching, they had arrived in Riverrun. The Direwolf and Trout banners of Houses Stark and Tully flew proudly over the fortified castle, the Blackfish no doubt still loyal to the dead man he had proclaimed his King once. The lovesick pup that had chosen his lady love over a Crown. Jamie once would have made the same decision as the Young Wolf did for Cersei, in a way he had done so already. He was not that foolish arrogant young kid anymore. He would embrace who he was, the heir of Tywin Lannister, and the Lord of Casterly Rock.

Finally, they could take this stupid castle to repay their debt or whatever her poor reasoning had been, and he could return home to his children. Trumpets flared around him as they rode into the encampment, proclaiming their entrance. The Lannister banners flew high overhead.

"Who's in charge here?" Jamie demanded the Frey soldier who had greeted him at the edge of the Frey encampment outside of Riverrun. He did not bother with any pleasantries. The sooner he got Riverrun, the sooner he could return home to his children. Pleasantries were just a waste of time.

"Lord Emmon Frey, Lord Jamie." The Frey soldier simpered.

Jamie nodded. "Bring me to him."

The Frey soldier nodded. "If you would just follow me m' lord."

Jamie dismounted from his horse and did just that. They walked through the camp without saying another word to each other. Soon they had arrived outside of the largest tent with silver flags stained with blue twin castles embroidered on them posted outside, flying high and proud.

The Frey soldier stepped aside, waiting to be given admittance but Jamie ignored his example and stepped past the guards, walking into the tent without first announcing his presence. He didn't have the time to waste on such trivialities.

A small man sat at the desk, hunched over with a quill moving rather rapidly over the parchment. He was rather weedy with precipitation atop his bald head. His hands were sweating as well. Jamie had to resist the urge to sneer at the new Lord of Riverrun. "Ser Emmon," He greeted cordially.

Ser Emmon looked up from what he was working on. "That's Lord Emmon Frey of Riverrun, Lord Jamie." He sniffed with his held high.

Jamie rolled his eyes. "What are the current plans for the siege?" He asked without any preamble.

"We've threatened to hang Edmure Tully if they do not surrender the castle to us. They have until morning to give their response or we will hang him and take the castle by force." Lord Emmon explained.

Jamie once again rolled his eyes. "You'll hang Edmure Tully either way, as long as he lives he'll remain a threat to your claim. The Blackfish is no fool, he knows that. We'll have to use force to claim the castle." He paused, the siege had been going on for over a year, there was no way this was their first time trying this strategy. "How many times have you tried that threat already? The Blackfish obviously won't take your bait."

Lord Emmon shifted nervously. "We are starving them out, Edmure Tully is just a prop to let the Blackfish believe that he isn't craven when he surrenders. That he is choosing to save his family instead of a castle."

Once again Jamie had to roll his eyes. "Starving Riverrun out would take years," _Time that Jamie did not have. He had to return to Tommen and Myrcella._ "Set to constructing siege towers, we'll storm the castle and force them out. The Blackfish will surrender or Riverrun will be rendered into rubble." He ordered.

Lord Emmon did not like Jamie's plan. "I am Lord of Riverrun," He sneered. "You will take the castle without damaging it or any repairs will be paid for from the Lannister coffers."

Jamie sighed. "My father promised you that you would hold Riverrun for your part in the Red Wedding. He did not promise anything about the state of the castle. I will take Riverrun for House Frey because the King ordered it." Jamie tried to pinch his brow to fight off his incoming headache but instead smacked his forehead with his golden hand. "I will not pander to your insane requests. Be grateful that you got the castle at all." _It's more than you deserve,_ Jamie thought to himself.

"You will not! We can claim Riverrun ourselves if you insist on destroying it. We do not need your aid!" Ser Emmon spat moodily and branded a piece of parchment in his face. "I have the decree. Signed by the king, by Tommen, see, the royal seal, the stag, and the lion. I am the lawful Lord of Riverrun, and I will not have it reduced to a smoking ruin."

Jamie wished he could just leave and let Ser Emmon do just that but he had his orders from the King and he didn't want to make this take longer when he was forced to double back to Riverrun after he returned. He took a step towards Ser Emmon. "I will follow the orders of the King. He told me to take Riverrun. If you have an issue with that then you can take it up with him."

Ser Emmon's eye twinkled. "The King!" He exclaimed happily. "I almost forgot, he sent a raven here for you."

Jamie smiled in spite of himself. His son was writing to him, perhaps just to tell him of Cersei's death or order him to return to the capital immediately but his son was reaching out to him for once. "Where is it?" He snapped, annoyed that Ser Emmon had waited to tell him. He should have been informed of the moment it arrived. "When did the raven arrive?"

Ser Emmon shrugged. "Probably three weeks ago, or something like that?" He guessed without any real concern.

Jamie blinked. That couldn't be news of Cersei's trial then, or her execution. Her trial had been scheduled to take place fifteen days ago, meaning a raven would have only just arrived this week, not three weeks ago. What else would Tommen need to write to him about? "Where is it?" Jamie repeated a little more forcefully this time.

Ser Emmon stood from behind the desk. "I keep it in my sleeping tent, I wanted to make sure no one could steal it before you got a chance to read it." _Translation: I wanted to make sure you wouldn't find it until I wanted you too._

The news had to be recalling him to King's Landing and Ser Emmon hadn't wanted him to leave until they had the castle but since he was planning to destroy it Ser Emmon now wanted him gone. Tommen had come to his senses and stopped letting Cersei control him, he wanted his father back before his mother had died. "Let's be off then, this should have been the first thing you told me, Ser."

Ser Emmon bristled. "Lord," He corrected but did as asked and led Jamie to his tent in silence.

Jamie stepped in right behind Ser- sorry Lord Emmon not wanting to give him the chance to hide that he had likely already opened the letter and read it. "Jamie!" A familiar female voice exclaimed excitedly. "Here at last are you?" His aunt's voice boomed.

Jamie turned in the direction of the voice and found his Aunt Genna quickly rising from her seat beside the brazier. His aunt was bigger than he remembered, easily twice the size of her husband. In her youth, she had been a shapely young woman, a curvy figure with a bosom that threatened to overflow her bodice. She had not aged well at all. Her womanly figure was gone, once alluring curves now just rolls of fat. Her face was square now and unattractive. "Aunt Genna," Jamie greeted cordially before turning back towards Lord Emmon.

Lady Genna did not appreciate his lack of attention to her. "Have you no hug for your old, fat aunt?" She asked and as Jamie glanced back at her he saw she was holding her arms out expectantly.

Jamie sighed and dutifully embraced her, losing sight of Lord Emmon for the time being. He expected her to pinch his ears as she always had when he was younger but instead, she placed sloppy wet kisses on his cheeks. "I am so sorry for your losses," She said softly.

Jamie took a step back and held up his golden hand. "I had a new hand made, of gold." He replied cheekily.

Lady Genna scowled and swatted his arm. "Very nice. Will they make you a golden father too? Or perhaps a silver sister? I don't care about your damn hand. Tywin and Cersei were the losses I meant, not your damn hand."

Jamie frowned. Were they truly losses? Tywin had not been a good man, he had wanted to see Tyrion dead for a crime he did not commit. He had had no honor or moral compass. What Jamie and Tywin had done to Tyrion was unforgivable but did his father deserve to die? Perhaps not. He was dead now but was it truly a loss?

Cersei was even more difficult to deal with. She was vile and evil and a lying cheating whore. She was also his sweet and beautiful sister who he had loved his enter life. She was the woman who kept him from his children and had lied to him. She was the one who had manipulated him and used him to do terrible things on her behalf without really giving him anything in return. Hate was easier to deal with than love certainly but it was even easier to not deal with her at all so he ignored his aunt's jibe and pushed her from his mind.

Lord Emmon had returned with a clearly already opened scroll that he held between his wringing hands. "There had never been a man like Tywin Lannister before and there might never be a man like him again." He butted into their stifled conversation.

They both turned to look at him with somewhat identical matching glares. He shuffled his feet awkwardly and held out the scroll for Jamie's inspection. "Here is the letter from the King, Lord Jamie." He said shyly. "I opened it thinking it was intended for me but once I saw your name on the byline, I rolled it up and did not read any further."

Everyone knew that was a lie, the letter had likely been marked as for Jamie and even if it hadn't been, he obviously hadn't stopped reading after seeing his name. Still, right now Jamie hardly cared about the schemes of the new Lord Frey. He wanted to see what his son had written to him.

His aunt thankfully realized that Jamie did not want an audience. "Emm, why don't you step outside and have a breath of air?" She asked politely, but really just dismissing him.

The pompous fool didn't seem to get what she was asking. "A breath of air?"

"Or a good long piss if you prefer, my nephew and I have family matters to discuss," Genna said a bit more forcefully.

Lord Emmon flushed. "Yes, it is quite warm in here. I will wait outside, my Lady. M'Lord." He sketched a small bow toward Jaime and tottered from the tent.

His aunt rolled her eyes at him once he was gone. "If that letter contains the information I expect it to, you'll probably need some questions answered. I'd presume you would rather ask me than his pompous ass."

Jamie smiled at her and murmured a quiet thank you before unfurling the scroll.

_Lord Jamie of House Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West,_

_On behalf of King Tommen of House Baratheon, the first of his name. Rightful King of the Andals, the Rhyonar and the First Men;_

_I, Kevan of House Lannister, Hand of the King order you to take the men you previously sent to Riverrrun by the King's decree and march them further North. Jon Snow, the bastard of Lord Eddard of House Stark and former Lord Commander of the Night's Watch has broken his oaths to the wall and taken to claiming that he is actually the bastard of Lady Lyanna of House Stark, a Targaryen bastard born out of his mother's rape at the hands of the former Crown Prince, Rhaegar of House Targaryen._

_He is attempting to claim the Iron Throne that belongs to King Tommen and the House of Baratheon by the rite of conquest. Move your armies North to Winterfell and ally with the Warden of the North, Lord Roose of House Bolton to crush this rebellion._

_This order supersedes the command to capture Riverrun for the Freys. Your priority is now to kill Jon Snow and capture the Lady Sansa of House Stark. If this proves to be a mummery then you are to remove Ser Davos of House Seaworth as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and execute him as well._

_The crown thanks you for your loyal service, Lord Jamie of House Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, and Warden of the West._

_This decree was signed into action by;_

_King Tommen of the House Baratheon_

The last line was his son's own signature, Jamie knew but for a moment he thought it was Cersei's own scrawl. The way the O's slightly dipped in the middle and were shaped more like an olive than a circle was exactly as Cersei wrote her own O's. The way the N tailed off with a long trail that often overlapped the next letter was also all Cersei. His B's were far too square for this to be Cersei's pen and the M's were all wrong as well.

He traced his fingers over the dried ink with a slight frown. He would not be returning to his kids anytime soon if the content of this letter was to be believed. A Targaryen and worse still Rhaegar's son. Rhaegar, who in their last conversation, had promised to protect his family with his life. His mad father, his sickly wife, and his innocent children. He had failed to keep that promise, he had killed Rhaegar's father himself and sat down on the Iron Throne while Ser Gregor brutally murdered Rhaegar's wife and children.

Yet now, Rhaegar had another child apparently, one from Lyanna Stark. He had a chance to keep his promise to Rhaegar he had made twenty years ago. He could protect his last child if this letter was to be believed. A part of Jamie was tempted to do so but doing so would mean going to war against Tommen. He would be choosing his word to Rhaegar and love for the King he could have been over his own son and he could never do that. What was another broken oath to the Kingslayer? He had sworn to never take up arms against the Starks or Tullys and here he was about to head North to destroy the last remnants of House Stark before heading back to Riverrun to eliminate the last Tullys. For good measure, he would also of course have to kill Rhaegar's alleged son. What was next? That he would be forced to fight Brienne? It was actually highly likely if Sansa Stark was his enemy. Great, another broken oath for the Kingslayer. Perhaps, he should just go by Oathbreaker now. It was certainly the more accurate title for him.

"Jon Snow is a Targaryen bastard?" He asked in complete disbelief. The idea that the honorable, holier than thou Lord Stark had committed what was essentially treason by hiding a Targaryen from his best friend, and King seemed completely absurd. Surely this was just some selfish power-hungry bastard with delusions of grandeur. "Why does anyone believe this?"

His aunt Genna sighed. "The royal bastard claims that he died, the Night's Watch says he was killed in a mutiny at Castle Black. He did not stay dead according to everyone on the wall but when he was put on his funeral pyre, he rose again. The tale is so outlandish yet everyone is sharing it so perhaps it might actually be true. Even Thomas Frey wrote to us from the wall informing Lord Walder of this Jon Snow's supposed resurrection and unburnt status."

Jamie nodded at what she said. Did lies ever spread that quickly? It almost had to be true with the urgency with which even those who likely hated Jon Snow sharing the story for all to hear. He had either managed to fool everyone or he was truly the unburnt and a Targaryen, a threat to his son's life and claim to the throne. The truth is it did not matter if he was actually Targaryen as long as people believed that he was, just like it did not matter if Tommen was actually Robert's son or Jamie's to the Lords of Westeros. Names had power, more so than blood did. Jamie would have gone to destroy this Targaryen with or without Tommen's edict. His promise to Rhaegar meant nothing if his children's lives hung in the balance, as they did here. He had to keep them safe, even at the expense of his honor, or care for anyone else.

"I've been ordered to march North to Winterfell immediately, tell your husband he will be forced to hold the castle on his own until I return. If he has not resolved the situation by the time I return then I will tear Riverrun into naught but rubble for him to rule over." Jamie informed Genna before leaving the tent without another glance back at her.

Unfortunately, Jamie's return to his children would be delayed further now, the Kingslayer had another King to kill. It would take him a month to get to Jon Snow's last reported location, wipe out both the last few remnants of the Starks and Targaryens before returning South to destroy the Tullys. He hopes to return to King's Landing in just about three months' time. Hopefully, Nymeria wouldn't have gotten impatient with him by then and killed his daughter, but truly what else could he do? He had his orders from his son and he had no choice but to follow them. He was the Kingslayer, the Oathbreaker and the honorless one, this is what he did best. Break vows and slay Kings, what were a few more broken vows to one with no honor. Words were only wind to him, no matter what he was saying.

* * *

Jon was stressed, he had no problem admitting that right now. The Mormonts small forces were expected to arrive in a few hours. They would just narrowly manage to beat the Bolton army to the Last Hearth as they were only a day out from here.

Losing his conversations with his Daenerys had been rough, he loved Rhaegal more than anything but just sharing his mind was nowhere near as enjoyable without her there for them to connect to. They were both missing his Daenerys and their siblings, Drogon, and Viserion which only amplified the other's longing to see them as well. He knew that his men would mock him for it but he was absolutely mooning over her. He needed her to be around him again, even if they didn't speak, just to see her face and hear her voice again. If he didn't need Rhaegal so desperately, he would just turn around and fly back to her. Was she even safe without him there to protect her anymore? She had Drogon and Viserion he knew but they didn't hunt down murderers or rapists as he had. Her people were in danger and by extent, she was as well. What if the Harpies had taken action to reclaim Meereen in his absence? He shook his head, he could not let himself think that way. For better or worse, he and Rhaegal would have to remain in Westeros for a long while.

Rhaegal was close enough to him by now that their connection felt stronger than ever. Jon had taken the long route to Westeros with Rhaegal so as to not tip off the Boltons or Lannisters to his existence so the dragon had not arrived yet but he was closer than they had ever been since Jon had come back into his human life. He could not wait to finally feel his other half. To ride on his back as a human, to look down on the world below and feel the wind rushing in his face. For a dragon that was ordinary but in his human body, Jon was sure that it would be extraordinary.

Unfortunately, he still had to wait for the Lannisters to arrive for him to finally ride on Rhaegal's back and they were still a few days out. He had been patient this long; he could wait a few more days. He quickly reminded himself that he would be King of the North with an alliance with two other Kingdoms if he remained patient, measured his actions, and didn't rush anything.

The battle was not about winning or losing, the outcome was already assured. This was about making a statement and minimizing their losses so the living had more men when the Long Night came. He would give every Lannister and Northern man on the field a chance of mercy when they were faced with death. Bend the knee and take the black or die by the Dragon's fire. He knew they would all choose life and in an instant, the Wall would be better defended than it had been in centuries. While he would never return to the Wall himself until the Long Night came since he no longer felt safe there, he had to do everything possible to fortify it. Every day that the Wall held the dead back, would mean higher chances of survival for the rest of Westeros.

For now, however, the Wall, Rhaegal, and even the Lannister and Bolton armies were not what was important. He had to stop his own men from rebelling, a task that Jon would admit was quite difficult and he was sure when the Mormonts arrived it would be even more difficult still. The Mormonts were a rowdy spirited bunch who would not follow him blindly like the Free Folk and to a lesser extent the Slates did.

The Slates overlord was a child who had thankfully become the best of friends with Rickon now and was keeping their men in check, for now, they would not rebel against their overlord. Once Jon had refused to act and the Boltons were on their doorstep, then they might consider rebelling against their overlord but until then they were held in check.

He knew that the Free Folk hated hiding behind the walls of this keep and waiting for the enemy to arrive. That had never been their way, they were always the ones on the offensive and after Hardhome, where staying in one spot had nearly ended them all they were even more than antsy. They might worship Jon and call him a King or even a God but he knew their restlessness would cause them to do something stupid and he would not be able to stop them for he was not one of them. He would have to get Tormund to lie and claim he knew what Jon was doing so he could keep his people calm and if his plans were known by someone other than himself they'd more likely believe he actually had one.

Someone might overhear what Jon was saying and his surprise would be ruined. It was even theoretically possible that with the proper preparation they might be able to take down Rhaegal, he doubted it but it was theoretically possible. He had to tell someone though or else he would see his life ended once again in a mutiny by his own men and he had no desire for that to happen. Tormund was as close to trustworthy as anyone outside of his Daenerys so he would be who he had lie about him knowing the plan. He wouldn't go behind his back and deny that Jon had a plan, at least he hoped that would be the case. He certainly wouldn't tell Sansa until it was too late for her to screw things up.

There was knock on the door, startling Jon out of his thoughts. "Come in," Jon called out.

"Your Grace, The Mormonts are within a mile of here and are seeking entrance." Lord Hother said from the doorway.

Jon nodded and rose from his chair. "Let's go greet them then."

He and Hother Umber walked out to the top of the walls in silence. Lord Hother still was too terrified of Jon to even speak in his presence without prompting after seeing the hole in his chest. That suited Jon just fine, he had no desire to speak to such a conniving, scheming coward. He did idly wonder how Hother would react when he saw Jon seated on Rhaegal's back if he was already so timid, perhaps he would keel over and die on the spot, too terrified to even breathe. Wouldn't that be amusing?

This time Jon did not wait on the wall for them to show up but instead rode out in front of a small welcoming party to greet the Mormonts outside of the gates. At the front of the Mormont party was the young Lady Lyanna who had ruled House Mormont since the death of Maege at the Red Wedding. She like Lord Slate was only aged ten years but unlike Lord Slate from what Jon knew, she was as fierce and effective as a leader as any. He would not underestimate her because of her age.

She might have only been riding a pony because of her size but she cut as intimidating of a figure as anyone. She carried herself with a natural regal grace that Jon was slightly envious of. She was decked in full leathers as if she planned on riding out with her men at the front of their lines to battle. With what he knew of the Mormonts he supposed that might actually be the case, in spite, of her young age.

"Lady Lyanna Mormont," Jon called out in greeting as he dismounted. "Thank you for answering the call."

"Lord Waters." She said in cooly in turn.

Jon's jaw clenched at the name given to bastards of the Crownlands. "King, My Lady." He corrected gently. He hated having to remind people he was a King, no true King ever had to remind people of that fact but until the North saw his strength this would be a constant occurrence. In a few days, people who didn't even recognize who he was would kneel and call him a King.

"The North knows no King except the King in the North whose name is Stark." She replied evenly.

Jon resisted the urge to groan. "I am a Stark."

"Are you? I believe you signed the letter as Jon Targaryen."

Jon dug his fingernails into his palms as his fists clenched at his sides. Perhaps he should have signed the letter as Jon Stark-Targaryen. He had wanted to make sure the Lords knew who he was from his mouth first so it didn't look like he was trying to hide who he was. He had thought that signing off on the letter as the son of Lyanna Stark would be enough but clearly, it had not been so.

"My mother was a Stark and the man who raped her was a Targaryen. My father was Ned Stark, not Rhaegar Targaryen." That was a lie of course but defending his father would earn him no points in the North so he wouldn't bother defending his selfish sire. "Traditionally, the son takes the blood father's name, not the mothers. That does not mean I do not have the blood of the Starks. I just also have the blood of a dragon and a claim to the Iron Throne."

Lyanna was unconvinced by his reasoning. "I don't know you. Are you a dragon or a wolf? Are you as mad as your father or as fierce as your mother? Do you have the Starks honor or are you as cruel as your father? Why should Mormont men risk their lives fighting for a self-proclaimed Targaryen?"

Jon missed Ghost. If he had his Direwolf by his side right now than no one would question if he was really a Stark. "You don't know me," Jon agreed. "Your Uncle, however, did and he thought enough of me to name me his steward. He thought highly enough of me that he chose me as his heir as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch." Jon made sure that he fingered the pommel of Longclaw during that statement. He wanted to make it clear to Lyanna that this was about more than the Night's Watch. That Jeor had believed in who he was, and without directly saying it had declared him as a type of pseudo-son.

"My uncle chose to give you a sword that belonged to House Mormont. It was not his place to do that, and he did it in ignorance of your true parentage. I doubt he would have wanted you on the Iron Throne, he cared little for the wars of the south. I trust that you will return our family sword to its rightful owners?"

Jon grit his teeth. He had never expected them to actually demand the sword back, they clearly didn't believe in his chances of success in claiming the throne if they were willing to give up the chance at having an honorary member of House Mormont on the throne. They had to believe he would lose here and wanted to sever all ties with him before it was too late.

The worst part of House Mormont's surprising decision to take the sword was that he had no choice but to acquiesce to her demand. If he chose not to do so he would be proving that he was the selfish bastard he was sure that they all feared he would be, they would think that he took after Rhaegar and not Lyanna or Lord Stark. Even with Rhaegal backing him up, he would have a hard time gaining their loyalty. He might not be able to personally kill the Others without Longclaw but he would be on Rhaegal's back most of the time he imagined.

He drew the sword with a heavy heart and looked at Longclaw with a bit of longing as he held it out to Lyanna Mormont. "Your uncle cared very much for the wars of the south because the wars of the south are the same as the wars of the North. There is only one war, and it's not the war for the Iron Throne. It's the war between the living and the dead. I don't want the throne because I want power." _Although I do want that._ " I want the throne because we need the seven kingdoms united if we want to have even a small chance against an army of at least two-hundred thousand."

"Your uncle and I both died in a mutiny at the hands of our own men who refused to believe in the real threat. We both acted as we did knowing the risk, that it could mean our own lives were forfeit, and I would willingly die again if it helped us defeat the Others just as I'm sure your uncle would if he was still here."

Lady Lyanna took the sword from his grip and looked at the blade. "Is this true?" She asked plainly.

Jon nodded but Tormund answered for him. "It's true, little lady. The Others and their army of dead men nearly destroyed us all at Hardhome, if it wasn't for King Crow here the Free Folk would be extinct, all of us serving in the Great Other's army. I've seen him, King Crow's seen him as have all the Free Folk here to fight for him. We don't like kneeling and calling any man our King but we understand what's at stake and if that means crowning the Crow then we'll do just that. Survival has to come first over our pride."

"If the North were to demand independence from the Iron Throne in exchange for our aid in this 'Great War' you speak of, would you grant it, Lord Waters?" She asked as what Jon could only assume was meant to be a test.

"I would," he answered only partially honest. There was no risk that they would accept their own independence as much as they wanted it now, if he sat the throne and offered it freely they would decline. Just like how the Unsullied had chosen to still follow Daenerys after she had freed them, the North would do the same. They only wanted independence because they didn't think they could have it. The North would be worse off on their own then without being a part of the Seven Kingdoms were they could turn to others for food through the long winters. They only wanted independence under Rob because Joffrey had executed Ned. Not because they cared about technically being beneath the Targaryen rule. If they truly did demand independence then he would of course decline but he doubted that they would. The illusion of choice was a powerful influencer and would keep them loyal as long as he offered it to them.

Lyanna tested the weight of Longclaw and took a few practice swings with the blade. She then to Jon's shock held the blade back out to him. "Perhaps you did inherit your father's sense of honor." Jon did not need to guess at who she was talking about. No northerner would ever declare Rhaegar honorable. "Keep the Mormont family sword, if you are half as skilled as the rumors claim then you'll do House Mormont proud, just as you'll do the North proud."

Jon took the blade gratefully and watched as Lyanna pulled her own much smaller sword out. "House Mormont hails Jon Stark; The King in the North!" She thrust it up into the air and then down into the snow as she knelt before him.

"The King in the North!" Her men echoed as they mirrored her actions and knelt before the dragon.

* * *

Jamie had tried to not focus on Cersei and the conflicted feelings she gave him but a month was a long time. He had not wanted a distraction but perhaps refusing to think about it was the real distraction. She would invade his thoughts constantly, no matter how much he tried to push the thought of her away. Maybe if he had just dealt with it, he would have moved past her already and be free to think whatever he wanted now, to not be distracted when the battle came.

They were finally arriving in Winterfell today, but from what Jamie's scouts had told him the Boltons had already left a few days earlier with 5,000 men to the wall where this supposed King, Jon Targaryen was camped out with only 2,000 men of his own- wildlings at that. Why Tommen needed to send Jamie to join them was a complete mystery to him. Unless the Boltons were complete fools, they would win this fight with ease. His presence here was completely pointless and just keeping him from being with his children.

The last time that Jamie had been in Winterfell had been four years ago when the Fat King had chosen to appoint the honorable fool as his hand. He had fucked Cersei in that tower that loomed high enough for Jamie to see it from outside the gates. He had pushed Bran Stark out of that window for Cersei, to keep them a secret and her safe from Robert's wrath. He didn't regret that decision in spite of her death making protecting her at that moment, mostly pointless, his lack of love for Cersei did not change his impetus. He would do it again if given the chance, to keep his children safe this time. He had loved Cersei then and now he loved his children. _The things we do for love,_ he had told Bran Stark before shoving him. To silence the boy who threatened the woman he had once loved. He would kill anyone and everyone he had to in order to keep his children safe, so great was his love for them.

He had refused all offers of companionship on his journey North. The men who wanted to drink with him and the whores who had wanted to fuck with him both. He had no desire to spend considerable time speaking to anyone but his children and that was not an option right now.

The last person he had tried to be friends with had likely died in Dorne. Bronn had made an effort to make Jamie a passable fighter with his left hand and had believed in him enough to go with him on a suicide mission. Jamie hadn't been good enough and it had cost Bronn his life and had given the Martells a foothold in Casterly Rock. He had enjoyed the sellswords company and blunt honesty but he had died because Jamie had been a fool, he had been conversing with Bronn instead of paying attention to the mission and because of that, they had been caught. They might have been caught regardless but Jamie still did partially blame his lack of focus.

He would not repeat that mistake here or this time it could be him who wound up in a body bag. If he were to die that meant Myrcella would as well and that was far from an acceptable outcome. He had to keep her safe and to do that he could not be distracted by anything or anyone for even a moment. He could not allow himself to be surprised.

He rode near the front of his army but not in the very front, he couldn't risk being the first in the line of fire in case of an ambush. If his men died then that sucked for them but his own death would be catastrophic. He was constantly scanning the area checking for any sign of possible conflict. He was sending scouts out before them everywhere they went and because of his paranoia, they were moving slower than they probably should be.

Jamie hardly even slept at night, too great was the risk of one of the Northerners whose lands they inhabited, using his resting time to slit his throat and by extent his daughter's throat. He knew that no one in the North held any love for the Kingslayer. He was weary but he would be able to rest all he needed when he returned to his daughter. For now, a few hours of shut-eye would have to be enough to sustain him. He would be equally helpless in battle with or without being tired anyways.

"Tell them to blow the trumpets and unfurl our banners, let the castellan of Winterfell know that we are not an enemy," Jamie ordered Lord Marbrand who nodded and went to relay along with his command to the proper people.

Soon the Lannister banner was flying high above their army alongside smaller flags representing houses Marbrand, Lefford, Peckledon, Ruttiger, and many others. Also flying high, dwarfed only by the Lion of Casterly Rock was the stag of House Baratheon that was supposed to represent Tommen who had no Baratheon blood. Trumpets and drums sounded loudly all around him as his horse trotted through the high stone gates of Winterfell. Their entrance was a grand affair and as long as the Boltons didn't betray them was public enough to avoid a misunderstanding and conflict resulting in loss of life. Considering who the Boltons were, and their actions at the Red Wedding it was entirely possible that they were betrayed. Wasn't that a comforting thought?

Jamie dismounted from his horse once he was inside the gates and walked through the parted crowd to where who Jamie could only assume based on the flashy golden horse crest emblazoned on his vest was Lord Ryswell stood waiting to greet him. "Lord Jamie Lannister," The man called out harshly in greeting. "Lord Bolton told us to expect your arrival." He obviously did not hold warm feelings towards the Lannisters despite them being allies in this fight.

Jamie nodded. "We were ordered by the rightful King, Tommen Baratheon to report to Winterfell to join up with Lord Bolton and march on the wall to defeat this supposed Targaryen claimant."

Lord Ryswell shook his head. "Jon Snow and his wildlings have captured the Last Hearth, Roose is on his way there with five thousand men in order to prepare for a siege on the walls. I was asked to redirect you there and give you fresh supplies for your journey and a place to camp for the night."

Jamie smiled. It would be much easier to lay siege on the Last Hearth then the wall where they previously expected the battle to come from. Roose and his men getting there first would mean they should already have siege towers built and possibly had already taken the castle and killed Jon Snow by the time he arrived. Although, Roose was a cautious man so he might want to wait until his chances of victory were secured by the Lannister reinforcements. He was unlikely to lose and would soon return to his children and free his daughter from the noose around her neck.

"How many men does Lord Snow have?" Jamie asked. "Has he managed to gain the allegiance of any of the Northern Houses?"

"I've heard he has three thousand wildlings and that House Slate is the only one to declare for him thus far."

Jamie grinned. This was going to be easy if that was all Lord Snow had fighting for him. Even if he held the defensive position, they had more than twice the numbers of Snow and his undisciplined wildlings that had no experience in siegecraft. His life was never truly at risk here. His presence here was likely completely unnecessary as well. He would ride hard for the Last Hearth and soon he would have Jon Snow's head and return home to Myrcella to save her from her husband. Soon, he would be able to be there for his son. They had no time to waste on anything, he had to prioritize getting to the Last Hearth as quickly as possible. The sooner Snow was dead the sooner he would be home.

"Thank you for your offer of hospitality Lord Ryswell but it is too early to stop for the night. We'll keep on marching towards the Last Hearth."

Lord Ryswell tried to hide a smile at how pleased he was by Jamie's decision. "I wish you the best of fortunes in the wars to come Lord Lannister." He said pleasantly.

"As I do you," With that said Jamie resaddled his horse and prepared to march even further North.

* * *

"I have a plan!" Jon growled as he slammed his hands down on the table.

"When do you plan on telling us this plan, Your Grace?" Lyanna challenged. "The Boltons are outside theses walls and you want us to stay in here and hideaway. Why wait? If your plan is as foolproof as you claim then now is the time to strike. Before the Lannisters arrive and their army becomes even larger."

Jon wanted to screw in frustration. They had been doing this for hours, going in circles with his council demanding he acted now and Jon refusing. Them demanding he shares his plan and him refusing to do so. They were all restless and terrified but Jon couldn't act until the time was right.

Rhaegal was only a few minutes away by flight, he had settled on Skagos for the time being. Jon had chosen that location as the Free Folk there were much more feral and as far as Jon was aware they were almost-entirely illiterate. There would be no risk of the news of a dragon in the North reaching the Boltons or Lannisters in time to do something different in their attack. Skagos was only a half-hour away for a dragon so if the Boltons did decide to Storm the Last Hearth before the Lannisters arrived, Jon would only have to hold the castle for a few minutes before Rhaegal ended the battle.

His efforts in keeping Rhaegal's presence hidden would, of course, be in vain if he informed his council of his plan as he doubted they would keep it a secret. Someone who didn't believe his claim, possibly all of them would try to get themselves out of trouble by turning on Jon and he was not protected by Rhaegal from another mutiny, that would happen far too quickly and Rhaegla wouldn't be able to harm the mutineers without everyone else in the keep being caught in the crossfire.

So maybe he was wearing his full armor at all times- even while sleeping. Maybe he would spend half his time asleep warged into a broken raven that sat on his desk so he would be able to wake up if someone moved on him while he rested. Maybe he carried three extra knives on his person right now but he was right to be cautious. These men had no loyalty to him, only agreed to fight for him for power, or revenge. If they thought he was a lost cause then they would not hesitate to betray him and Jon had no plans to die again.

"The time has not yet arrived, I will inform you of the plan when you need to know," Jon explained while trying his best to remain calm. "If word of my plan reaches our enemy then it will fail. The only way to ensure that it does not reach them is to not speak of it. When the time is right, you will know the plan but not until then."

"And when is that time? When the Lannisters arrive?" Lyanna argued. "You have to trust us if we are going to fight for you."

Jon slammed his fists into the table once more. "Why should I trust any of you?" He snarled viciously. "Because you swore to follow me? Because you showed up?"

"I trusted the men of the Night's Watch because they swore an oath to follow my commands and that got me killed. The Whitehill's showed up intent on betraying me, why should I believe that you don't plot to do the same." He balled his hands into fists and looked Lyanna Mormont in the eye. "I do not trust you."

Lyanna tilted her head up. "Is it that you don't trust us or that you don't have a plan? Are you simply stalling for time trying to come up with something? You clearly aren't your cousin, he overcame much greater odds than his before he threw away his kingdom. He always had a plan, you clearly do not have a plan."

Jon gritted his teeth at being considered worse than Robb. That had always been a sore spot for him, he had always wanted to be better than Robb at something and he rarely had. He was a Targaryen and a literal fucking dragon; his brother was not better than him and never was. He made to make an angry retort but surprisingly Tormund saved him from having to answer.

"He just doesn't trust you, because he doesn't know you. King Crow told me his plan because I have proven my loyalty to him. He knows that I have no desire to betray him to those Bolton fuckers. He has a plan and it's a fucking brilliant one." Tormund said loyally.

Jon knowing Tormund as he did, could easily see that the giant man was lying and he could tell Varamyr knew he was doing so as well but the Northerners didn't know him well enough to accurately pick up on the signs of his lies. The Free Folk would, however, know if he tried to sell the same lie. Jon hadn't actually told Tormund his plan or even asked him to lie about it as he had seriously considered. The risk of someone overhearing was too great or perhaps it was just his paranoia. Tormund had apparently trusted Jon enough to lie without prompting. Perhaps, he should allow himself to actually trust him again. Tormund had never given him any reason to even suspect there was any consideration of betraying Jon. Yet Jon didn't feel like he couldn't trust Tormund for some odd reason, perhaps it was his lack of Valyrian blood and he should ignore his instincts. He would have to give it some thought.

"You'd trust a wildling over the Northern Men?" Eddison Slate, one of the chief advisors of the young Lord Brandon Slate asked.

"Yes," Jon answered honestly. "I'd trust the men who have proven themselves by fighting by my side and those who understand the real threat first. Prove your loyalty to me here, trust me to know what I'm doing against the Boltons and I will trust you."

Lyanna frowned. "We have no choice but to trust you now, Your Grace, our lots have already been cast but if you mislead us here then the North will remember. Our lives are in your hands for the better or the worse. Let's just hope your plan is as good as you claim it is."

"I can assure you that it is," Jon said quietly. "Now, I have preparations to make for the battle so if you would leave me in peace to make them, it would be much appreciated."

They slowly shuffled out of the doorway, content for now with trusting Jon after Tormund had so passionately vouched for him with a lie. Speaking of Tormund he was lingering behind as was Sansa who had somehow forced her way in with the rest of the men and women needed on the war council. He could hardly turn her away either or risk the North thinking that he was rejecting his Stark side. She would have a place there in time anyway, there was no reason to delay the inevitable.

"Would you step outside a moment, while I speak to my sister Tormund? We can go over the plans once we are done."

Tormund looked like he wanted to say something in protest but thought better of it and he too left the room.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Sansa was on him. "When will your army arrive?"

Jon bit his lip to stop himself from grimacing. "My ally should be here in three days' time." He neglected to mention the fact that his wargs knew that the Lannisters were only two days out. It was better that they think the Lannisters were still over a week away so they gave him more time without enacting their own plot. They could be surprised when the Lannisters arrived and he called down Rhaegal along with everyone else.

Sansa frowned. "Are you sure that they are coming? That they didn't sell you out to the Boltons? That this isn't a trap to have you unprepared for their attack?"

They were valid questions that Jon would be asking himself if he was actually waiting on an army but he had no doubts that Rhaegal would show up. He was Rhaegal. Rhaegal would show up at the perfect time and their enemies would burn. "I'd trust him with my life, he's the only man I'd trust so."

Sansa's brow furrowed as she tried to figure out who Jon could possibly be talking about but he knew she would never guess at the answer, she didn't even believe the dragons really existed, let alone that Jon had one or more accurately was one.

She sighed in defeat. "I'll trust you on this Jon… I don't know why you don't want others knowing about your army, but I'll trust you with this… just please don't do anything stupid. You have to win, if not for yourself or even me then for Rickon and Arya wherever she is."

Jon nodded. "Thank you for your support sister. It truly means a lot to me. I assure you that I have this well under control. In a few days, the Boltons will be dead and we will be leaving this place."

Sansa nodded once more and bowed before leaving the room. As she exited the room, Tormund entered.

"I appreciate your help during that meeting," Jon told Tormund in greeting. "Your claim that I shared my plans with you truly calmed them down, thank you."

Tormund frowned and took a seat across from Jon. "I believe in you Snow, I believe that you know what is at stake and won't throw everything away on a plan you're not confident in."

"I appreciate your faith," Jon said amicably, knowing that a but was coming.

He was proven right only second later. "But I am a horrible liar and the Northerns don't know me so they won't pick up on it but the Free Folk will pick up on my lie about knowing your plan when they ask and that will lead to me losing the respect of the Free Folk and will lead to everyone knowing that I don't your plan. I know that you don't want to trust anyone, Snow, and I can't say that I blame you after what the crows did to you but you have to tell me or else you'll lose the Free Folk and by extension the rest of your men."

Jon sighed. "We have wargs that spy on our enemies, what if our enemies have the same? What if the Umbers have a way behind the wall and Hother is listening in as we speak right now and relaying this information to the Boltons? I can not chance saying anything, even in private or someone could know and we could lose. If I keep it secret then our victory is assured." He tried to reason with Tormund.

"How can you hold this castle if all your men abandon you as they will? You have to tell someone, it can be me, it can be the little Lady or even tell your damn sister for all I care." Jon had to snort at the last one, he would never trust Sansa with this. She wouldn't believe him and would plot against him if she thought he was just delusional. "You need someone who can vouch that your plan is as foolproof as you claim and not have it be an empty boast." Tormund loudly voiced his protest to Jon's secret-keeping. "I'm not asking you to scream it from the rooftops or tell everyone. I'm asking you to whisper your plan in one fucking person's ear."

 _A warg could still overhear as a rat or raven with their sensitive hearing._ Jon wanted to protest but Tormund was right. He did have to tell someone and it probably should be Tormund who he trusted more than anyone else here even if he didn't trust him fully. Tormund would at least believe his claims to be more than delusions.

Jon sighed and stood, leaning over the table to whisper in Tormund's ear as if he was a child trying to share the latest gossip. "I have a dragon," he muttered quietly. "None of our men will be at any risk, the Boltons will be helpless."

Tormund leaned back completely gobsmacked. "You're serious?" He asked a little louder than Jon would have liked.

"Aye. You've seen what happens North of the Wall, this should come as no shock to you. The plan is foolproof don't you see?" He asked loudly in case anyone was listening in.

Tormund nodded mutely, completely stupified. "The Dragon King!" Tormund laughed boisterously. "There truly is no chance of our defeat."

"Aye." Jon agreed. "Soon I will hold the North and we will be able to move our focus to the throne in the south so we can be prepared for Winter."

"To the Dragon King!" Tormund cheered, lifting the horn of mulled mead, he always carried on his person.

* * *

Jamie rode out at the front of the party to greet the Boltons outside of the Last Hearth as the trumpets sounded all around them. They were finally here, it was almost time to go home to his children and leave the dreary North where he was constantly surrounded by his enemies. He would take Jon Snow and Sansa Stark's head and return home a victor and a hero.

Jamie missed Tommen and Myrcella more than he ever thought possible. He hadn't missed them near as much when he was a captive of Rob Stark or when Myrcella had been sent off to hell by Tyrion. He wasn't sure he had even missed Cersei that much while he was a captive, he had certainly missed her body but not really her company. Brienne was a better company anyways. Cersei certainly hadn't missed him at all with how many men she invited into her bed while he was being starved and mangled.

As much as Jamie hated to admit it to himself, Jamie was missing Cersei- at least a little. He would likely never heal that ache. He hated her and the twisted controlling her she had become but he had once loved her and probably still did. He just hated her so much more.

He mourned his sister he once had, the one who actually cared about him and loved him. The one who wanted to be with him so badly that she had begged Jamie to join the Kingsguard. The brave twin that had been willing to pet a lion when she was six when even Jamie had been too scared to do so. His sister had always been the more fierce of them, like an angry lioness protecting her cubs. He had once loved that about her, he had appreciated that she kept him away from his children and found it endearing. He had thought she was doing it to protect him.

He had been a fool blinded by love and now he knew the truth, how awful she truly was to him and everyone else, and yet he still for some reason cared about her. He missed having her boss him around, although he knew that if she survived he would likely get furious with her for trying it again.

He missed the idealistic dream that he and she could be a normal family raising their children as their children and not Robert's. That one day they would be able to marry and show their love openly to all. He had fantasized about it regularly for years, albeit mostly the part about marrying Cersei. That dream was dead now, any chances of it ever occurring had died when he found out about her whorish behavior.

He regretted how he and Cersei had parted. The last thing he would ever say to her had been hateful. He had taken a pleasure in watching her fear, in knowing that she could do nothing and a part of him still enjoyed that memory and it was that thought that disgusted him. He should have kissed her one last time at least, given in to the urge for hate sex and left the taste of her lingering on his lips. He could have tried to resolve their issues and deal with them together. Perhaps he should have told her of Arianne's plot and prioritized their daughter's life over a war with Dorne. Fuck the Dornish, the Lannisters came first. Fuck everyone who wasn't them.

He wasn't sure that he still wanted Cersei alive either and he certainly wouldn't have wanted her back if she had survived. He just- he didn't know what he wanted. He wished that he could go back to the way things used to be. Before Tyrion had killed their father and revealed that terrifying truth to Jamie. Things used to be simple.

Jamie shook his head. What was he doing thinking about this now? He was almost home and then he could deal with it. He could not afford to be distracted right now, he could not allow himself to be killed. For Myrcella's sake.

"Lord Jamie Lannister, you arrived quicker than we expected." Roose Bolton said as he approached him to greet him. "I apologize for your rough treatment during our last encounter. I trust you've been recovering well?"

Jamie dismounted from his horse and nodded. "It's certainly been an adjustment but it's gone well. I appreciate your assistance in helping me get back to King's Landing." Jamie lied. Vargo had been working for Roose when he had taken Jamie's hand and he had tried to have Brienne fed to a bear. He was hardly looking forward to working with Roose again. The sooner this was over the better.

"I'm glad to hear it, Lord Jamie." He shook his head towards the boy standing a few paces behind him who stepped forward and held out his right hand. "I don't believe you've had the pleasure of meeting yet, this is my son, Ramsay Bolton, the Lord of Winterfell."

Jamie glanced away from the extended hand that was obviously meant as some sort of slight by the cruel smile on his face that reminded him far too much of Aerys. "A pleasure to finally meet you, Lord Jamie. I've heard ever so much about you."

Jamie ignored his greeting and turned back to Roose. He did not care to deal with his legitimized bastard right now or play at politics that he really could not care less about. Those games were always better left to Tyrion. He idly wondered if Tyrion could come back now that Cersei was no longer here to persecute him for Joffrey although him killing Tywin likely made that impossible now. A pity, he missed his brother even if his brother did not miss him.

He mentally shook himself again. What was he doing getting so distracted? He had to be focused right now, more than ever. He turned to Roose to ask him a question. "Tell me of your dispositions."

Ramsay's jaw clenched at being ignored but Roose did not hesitate to answer the question. "We've only surrounded the southern part of the castle with minimal troops and trenches to the North." He explained. "The only thing North of here is the wall and fleeing there would be incredibly stupid. Most the wildlings can't ride anyways so retreat is an unlikely outcome."

"The Umbers tell us that the ramparts on the Last Hearth are relatively thin and the castle is hardly a large one so the bastard can hardly squeeze even a third of his army up there. We only need to knock down one wall and fewer men are at risk by focusing our attack in one area. The Umbers would prefer we don't tear their entire holdfast into rubble so it works in all regards."

"We were waiting for your arrival to take the Hearth. We've been constructing trebuchets and ballistae to take down the southwest wall which the Smalljon tells us is the least heavily fortified. We planned to not engage until you had arrived to minimize our casualties."

Jamie nodded. The plan was sound enough, knock down a wall, defeat Snow's army, kill the bastard and return home. "How many men does Snow have?" Jamie asked pondering how he could position himself to best keep himself from death or any conflict really without appearing as a complete craven.

"Roughly twenty-five-hundred and a single giant, his forces are made primarily up of Wildlings but he also has acquired the loyalty of House Mormont and Slate," Roose answered.

Jamie nodded once more, those were incredibly good odds. Ser Gregor was incredibly strong but Snow's giant would likely be inferior. Even if it was Ser Gregor himself, he couldn't beat a hundred men on his own. This had to be a trap, surely, Lord Snow wasn't this much of an idiot to think he could win with those numbers. "Do we have any word of what Lord Snow plans to do? Surely he isn't stupid enough to not have a plan with these odds."

Ramsay interjected before Roose could respond. "The bastard boasts of some unbeatable foolproof plan that none of our spies know the details of, he wishes to scare us into inaction- to stall for enough time to sneak away like the cowardly rat he is."

The realization hit Jamie suddenly. "The bastard plans on using the Night's Watch. He plans on having them come upon us from behind and cut us down while we lay siege. That's why secrecy is so key, the Night's Watch is too small of a force to make a difference if we know they are coming but if they catch us off guard they give him a chance at victory."

"I'll take half of my men and fortify the northern edge against a calvary charge. You can take point on the storming of the Last Hearth and Ser Daven-" He gestured at his cousin who had come to stand beside him, "will command the rest of the Lannisters forces during the siege. We'll want to strike fast before Lord Snow realizes that we know his plan. Prepare for battle at nightfall."

Roose looked like he would protest the assignments or timing but instead just nodded. "Good catch, Lord Jamie. At nightfall it is, the Night's Watch will not catch us unaware today and soon the Starks and Targaryens will be gone from the world for good."

* * *

"You told us the Lannisters were a week away!" Lyanna snapped at him as the Lannisters and Boltons met outside the gates. "Can you share your brilliant plan now?" She snarled. "How are we supposed to do our part if we don't know what that part is?"

Jon merely smiled. Rhaegal's excitement for this moment as he flew high above the sea en route for them right now was contagious. He too was excited to see people finally acknowledge him as the King he was and to quiet their complaints. He was also a tiny bit excited to see them burn although that was probably mostly Rhaegal rubbing off on him. Soon he would be King of the North and the rider of Rhaegal. He could hardly contain his excitement at finally meeting Rhaegal as a human.

"You don't have a part to play," Jon said perfectly calm. "You are required to do nothing but watch for my plan to succeed." He stood up and picked up the copper crown that he had doused in oil off of the table. "Come, sister, it's finally time."

As he expected Jon's complete lack of concern and dismissal of them left them too shocked to protest. They might plot to usurp him or flee now but the chances of either saving them were too small at this point that it would be better for them to hedge their bets with him. Even if they did try anything, it wouldn't go down within this hour and by then he'd have already won. They simply hadn't the time to act anymore.

Sansa followed him mutely out of the room? "Your other army is here? Surely, you weren't foolish enough to trust the Kingslayer?" She demanded once they were alone. "Why on earth would you trust him after what the Lannister's army after what they did to my parents and our brother? After what Joffrey did to me?"

Jon couldn't help but chuckle at her completely false rationalization. "No, dear sister, the Lannisters are not my other army. I don't have another army at all."

Sansa stopped walking and stared at him. "You what?" She demanded harshly cutting off his explanation. "You told me that you have another army, that you would trust with your life to show up. Are you saying that you lied?"

Jon chuckled once more. "I never lied, I said that I had an ally that I would trust with my life to show up. Not an army, that was all you."

"You have a single ally that can defeat the Lannisters and the Boltons without the help of the Mormonts or Slates?" Sansa asked clearly perplexed. "Are you truly as mad as your father, Jon? What man is greater than five thousand men?"

Jon hesitated before responding. He knew he needed to at least pretend to trust Sansa for his plans to progress beyond this one battle and this was hardly information that could hurt him at this point but it still felt wrong to share this with her. Although, it had also felt wrong to tell Tormund so perhaps it was just her lack of Valyrian blood causing Rhaegal and by extension, him to be hostile towards her. He didn't trust her but there was nothing to gain by withholding this from her any longer. He had to at least sort of trust her for what came after this. "I don't have a man, my betrothed sent me my dragon."

Jon had spent some time debating whether he should claim credit for Rhaegal's appearance or give it to his Daenerys. On one hand, he wanted them to recognize him as a King in his own right and not just the consort to the Queen. However, he knew that his betrothal once she accepted it and it was made public would hardly go over well with the Northern Lords. They would call him a traitor and refuse to accept her as their Queen until she earned their loyalty. Being able to credit her for the Bolton's demise would go a long way in endearing the North to her. Hopefully, it would get Sansa to back off on his "reckless and foolish" marriage proposal angle and get her to accept that his Daenerys as his equal rather than just another obstacle.

Sansa laughed bitterly at his response. "You're a fool, Jon. Your aunt lied to you, she wants you to lose here so you can't claim the throne. Dragons aren't real."

Jon couldn't control his rage at the insult towards both Rhaegal and his Daenerys. "You know nothing, cousin." He spat. " I can come back from the dead but dragons are impossible?" He laughed incredulously. "You do not know my Daenerys and you do not know Rhaegal. I've seen dragons with my own eyes, I've spoken with Rhaegal, I've flown with him, he's real and he's almost here."

Jon bit down on his lip hard to cut off his tirade before he revealed anymore. Jon has done all that with Rhaegal should be impossible from what Sansa knew and he was certain she had picked up on the possessive way he had referred to Daenerys. He had overshared and might have just revealed his greatest secret to Sansa there. If she knew that wargs existed then she would likely put the dots together and as much as Jon wished that he could, he knew that he couldn't keep their existence from Sansa forever, soon she would have to know. Soon he would be forced to trust her.

"How?" She asked breathlessly. Jon said nothing in reply.

"Are you sure Jon?" She asked quietly in some disbelief. "You really have a dragon?" She asked breathlessly. "And you're sure he's here?"

Jon nodded. "Aye. He's here and the time has come to finally kill the Boltons, now come I need you to identify some people for me."

Sansa nodded mutely and followed after him up onto the walls. The sky was overcast and the snow was falling all around. The Lannister's had only just arrived and had yet to take up defensive positions. A good portion of the siege towers were undermanned and Jon was certain that even if they were manned they were likely mounted in one direction and lacked the mobility to turn around and get Rhaegal before he could destroy them if it ended up necessary. Why would they be mobile? A wall didn't move. As long as Rhaegal didn't land there was no chance of him being harmed since an arrow would just bounce off his hard scales.

He stood off to the side, in an alcove with Sansa. "Point me to Roose and Ramsay Bolton. I need to know who to target." Jon whispered quietly to Sansa.

She nodded and pulled her hood up before taking a step forward. She pointed vaguely at a group of Bolton men. "They're the ones with a red cape made out of the human skin- Robb, his wife, and mother's according to Ramsay." She shuddered. "Their coats are lined with direwolf fur as well from Robb as he made sure to tell me all about, multiple times. Ramsay is the fat one right there with his thick lips and wormy fingers." She shuddered once again and Jon put a hand on her shoulder in a poor attempt to comfort her. "He's wearing red armor that has the bones and organs of a man engraved in it as if they had been flayed."

Jon nodded he had thought that one was Roose based on how fancy the armor was. "I see him. And Roose?"

She scanned the throng of people for a minute and pointed to her left. "He's over there, on the other side of the camp, standing next to one of the golden armored Lannisters. His armor is silver with screaming faces carved into his breastplate and a flayed man on his collar." She said quietly.

He scanned the crows as well and found the armor she spoke of. "Thank you sister, it's time." He dipped the copper crown into the torch mounted beside him and watched as the oil caught. He made to put the crown on his head but Sansa grabbed his arm.

"Jon," She pleaded. "Don't give Ramsay a quick death. Please- make him suffer first." She pleaded desperately.

Jon pulled his arm out of her grip and said nothing as he placed the copper crown upon his head. A crown that now happened to be on fire. Right now Roose and Ramsay were far enough apart that he could possibly make Ramsay suffer but he had to completely eviscerate one of them to show how hopeless they were against the might of a dragon. To force them all to bend the knee to him and later his Daenerys. They needed Dragons to be feared again.

He would make no promises but he would do his best to give his sister what she begged for. He had to appease some of her more reasonable demands for them to work together and for his plans for the seven Kingdoms to properly progress as planned. Sansa was a key player in the Game of Thrones that he needed to be able to utilize fully.

Rhaegal was only seconds away now, the moment Jon gave the signal he would be here. It was time for Jon to be crowned a King.

* * *

"Ser Alyn, I need you and Ser Lymond to set your men to digging trenches guarding the northern borders of our camp. Lord Snow plans on utilizing the Night's Watch in this battle and we need to be well defended on all sides."

"I will do so my Lord," Alyn Stackspear vowed and jogged off towards the camps to rally his men to do just that.

Ser Lymond Vikary lingered, staring ahead slack mouthed, clearly having not heard Jamie's command for whatever whore he was staring at. "Ser Lymond!" Jamie shouted at him.

Ser Lymond blinked owlishly and looked at Jamie for a second before glancing back to whatever he had been staring at. "Look, Lord Jamie." He urged him but did not look at him.

Annoyed, Jamie spun to see what had stolen the attention of his commander and the too went slack-jawed. Standing atop the wall was who Jamie could only assume was Jon Snow, dressed in full Targaryen regalia. He was certainly a Targaryen, there was no denying that despite his Northern features. They didn't stare because of his cloak or dragon sigil they stared because of headdress.

On top of his head, flames danced glowing in the flickers of the dark sky. The bastard did not burn, not even his hair as the flames rested on his head. He stepped forward, his face impassive even as a normal man would be screaming in pain. He was clearly who he claimed to be, a Targaryen bastard and unburnt.

A horrifying idea strick Jamie. What if this was the bastard's foolproof plan? He could not burn, did he have wildfire? Did he plan on completing the work of his grandfather? Did he plan on burning all of them to death while he remained unburnt and the sole survivor? He would kill thousands to defeat them including all of his own men, but in the end, as the only survivor, he would be the victor by default.

Jamie was going to die here. Burnt beyond recognition, dying in complete agony as the flames melted his skin into nothingness. He had seen the fire burn Rickard Stark while he served in Aerys's Kings Guard and done nothing. Now he would reap the fruits of his inaction and be burnt alive by the last Stark and Targaryen. He would cook to death in his armor.

Myrcella would die. He couldn't stop it, no matter what he did. He would die here and Nymeria would poison her so she would follow him to the grave. Tommen would be completely alone in the world, the last son of the line of Tywin Lannister. His daughter would die because the bastard was as mad as his grandfather.

No. He wouldn't let the bastard complete his plan, he would kill him just like he had his grandfather. "Ser Lymond, get the archers in position. Tell them to fire on my command. Aim exclusively for Jon Snow."

Ser Lymond shook himself out of his daze, "Yes, my Lord." He said quietly and walked off to do as Jamie had asked. Would the archers even be able to aim for Jon Snow from down here? Snow was fifty feet above him and he was wearing full armor, only a helm was missing from the look as he instead donned a crown of fire. Their bows weren't designed for precision hunting but for raining fire down on their enemies. The distance over precision and they might die because of it.

They also might live because of it, the emphasis on distance meant with the fifty-foot walls they could stand probably six hundred feet away from the wall and still have their arrows reach the enemy with a chance of actually doing damage. They would have more optimal angles because of that decision but Snow was five hundred feet away, how did they expect to actually hit the tiny target that was his unguarded face. And if they were all to aim for the exact same spot with a hundred arrows, then half of them would cancel each other out. He would try but realistically they had no chance of hitting Lord Snow. If he had wildfire they were as good as dead. Myrcella was as good as dead.

"I am King Jon of Houses Stark and Targaryen," The bastard shouted to the heavens. "Rightful King of the Andals, the Rhyonar and the First Men; Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. The Unburnt, the Resurrected One, and the Dragon," He grandstanded. The first title was clearly true, but surely he didn't actually expect people to believe he had died. That had to be hyperbolic speech to excuse from his vows to the Watch without being called an oathbreaker. And he was calling himself a dragon? That was overly pretentious. Exactly like his grandfather had been, not at all like his father. His father had been a good man, the bastard's coin had landed on the wrong side.

"Kneel before me right now, and you will be allowed to live. Refuse and death by fire awaits you." He warned and Jamie knew that his suspicions were correct. The bastard really did plan on killing them all with wildfire as his grandfather had tried to do.

"Knock!" Jamie called as loudly as he could out heard the sound of his archers drawing their bowstrings; readying themselves to fire at his command.

"I have a different offer for you, bastard." The Bolton boy, Ramsay he thought it was shouted back. "I'll flay you alive and wear your skin as a cloak. I'll take your sister and put my baby in her belly. I'll kill all of your wildlings and dress my wife in their skins. I'll cross the narrow sea and take the other Targaryen girl to be my new plaything. I'll-" Jamie tuned him out. The Bolton boy was obviously just as mad as the Targaryen one.

Jon Snow's face darkened. "So you've chosen death then." He said loudly but perfectly calm. The wildling standing at his left blew his horn loudly.

"Draw!" Jamie screamed loudly to his men. Snow was about to do it, he was going to burn them all alive with his wildfire. That had to have been the signal to do it.

The horn sounded again. "Loose!" Jamie screamed as loudly as he could. Yet only a small portion of the arrows flew and all of them missed the mark. Why had they refused to do as he commanded? He turned around and saw that many of them had dropped their bows. Some had scattered and others were kneeling. How had Lord Snow's threat scared them so much? Why were they surrendering? They didn't know about the wildfire that Aerys had planned to use before Jamie stopped him. They had no reason to fear Jon Snow. The horn blew a third time.

Then Jamie heard the most terrifying, earth-shaking roar. He looked up.

_Oh fuck._

* * *

Jon was furious. How dare the Bolton bastard threaten to do that to his Daenerys? He would die a very painful death for that. Forget eviscerating men as a show of strength to inspire fear and submission. He wouldn't even get the mercy of dying by fire. He had threatened his Daenerys and Sansa as well.

Rhaegal was here, it was time for the Boltons to get what they deserved. "So you've chosen death then." He declared to the bastard.

He focused on his connection to Rhaegal and warged into him. He looked down on the ground beneath him, his form obscured by the clouds and the distance he would cover in seconds. Eyes turned towards him, first one Lannister soldier who dropped his bow and nudged another and another until soon hundreds were looking at him and shaking- too terrified to even scream. Some of them falling to their knees in abject terror, others trying to flee from the scene.

He let out a roar that pierced the heavens and drew the rest of their eyes to him. That set everyone off. All around him men started screaming, tossing their weapons to the ground and dropping to their knees, men tried to flee out towards the woods where the Whitehill army should be waiting to cut them down after he had given them the signal. Usually, he would have reveled in their worship but right now he had a more important thing to focus on. Revenge.

He dove down low to the ground, but still high enough that they wouldn't have the reach to pierce his scales with their spears. He supposed it was possible that they could throw their spears and maybe have enough force to scratch his scales but he doubted it. He figured their fear would paralyze them and stop anyone stupid from commiting suicide by attacking him.

Jon let loose a torrent of fire on the silver armored man that Sansa had identified as Roose Bolton. He and the men in the immediate vicinity were consumed by the torrent of flames and rendered into naught but ashes. They now knew just how powerful a dragon truly was. Jon roared once more in triumph as he swooped up, he then swooped back down and released another torrent of flames upon the row of deadly ballistae that in legend the Dornish had used to take out Meraxes. The man who had murdered Robb was dead and the few things that could actually hypothetically threaten Jon were gone.

The men who had been standing near Roose or the ballistae but not in the immediate vicinity of either of his blasts were in various states of disarray. One man's helm had melted entirely and he was flailing on the ground as the liquid metal ran over his face just as his Daenerys had told him her first husband had done to Viserys when he threatened her son.

For an almost a hundred-foot radius from where he had targeted, corpses lay on the ground, killed solely by proximity to his flames. Their bodies and armor melted on their corpses, some of them were just skeletons on the dry ground and others still were just pules of mush. Within a hundred-yard radius, men were not quite dead but they were writhing around in pain on the burning ground, their skin blackened. They would likely die as well seeing as they were lying on burning ground, very few even trying to escape and instead just begging for the sweet release of death.

The ground where Roose Bolton had once stood was black and scorched beyond recognition. It would be a long time until this ground ever bore any life again, the flames had killed it. The grass a hundred yards out was aflame. Five-hundred yards out and the snow was melted, the ground warm and burning the soles of men's feet through their melting rubber boots. It had stopped snowing as well- at least directly above where Roose had stood. The clouds had parted at his command, the hazy blue sky clear directly above him, smoke and steam obscuring men's views still as they coughed and wheezed.

The stench of death was present and it smelt wonderful. The men beneath him were in disarray and dying and it was beautiful. The fire was purging all of the inferior men who dared to try to challenge a dragon.

He flew high and then dove down rapidly toward the eastern side of the army, men dispersing afraid that he was going to release a torrent of flames on the enemy once more. That was not his plan, this time, no he had to make the one who had dared to try to threaten a dragon pay.

He instead landed on the ground directly in front of Ramsay Bolton. The bastard roared and tried to lash out at Jon with his sword but Jon was quicker and caught the blade between his teeth and headbutted the armored man, causing him to fall back onto his back. He let loose a light torrent of flames in his throat and the sword melted in his mouth.

Metal still tasted awful so Jon spat it back out and deposited the molten metal on Ramsay's lap. He screamed in pain as the metal heated his own armor to the point where he was no doubt blistering beneath his armor.

That was hardly enough for Jon though. This thing, Ramsay had threatened to turn HIS Daenerys into a toy for his own amusement. He had raped his sister. He had threatened his Daenerys so he would die but he would not be given that mercy quickly, he would suffer first. He lashed out with a claw and dragged him towards his open mouth. He viciously tore chunks of his armor off with his claws until his armor was stripped away and his reddened skin was exposed.

Jon snarled and dug into his belly with his teeth. Ripping the fool apart with his teeth, eating him while he was still alive. The bastard screamed in pain as Jon ripped into his entrails and tore into the sweet delicious flesh. He tasted better than most humans did and they were already a delectable treat. He tasted of revenge and retribution.

Jon forced himself out of Rhaegal, after assuring the dragon to take his time with the treat. He stood tall on the wall, watching the chaos below him dispassionately. "Sound the horn, Tormund." He ordered. "It's time to end this."

Tormund did as asked and drew some of the attention back towards him. He didn't have everyone's attention in the chaos but he would get them quickly enough. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted.

"Once again I offer you the choice, bend the knee, or die. Northern men, throw away your weapons and swear fealty to Houses Stark and Targaryen and you will be allowed to live out the rest of your lives in service to your King. Your ignorance has been forgiven. You will be allowed to return to your families, alive and mostly whole."

"Lannisters!" He cried out. "You have betrayed Houses Stark and Targaryen too many times to be forgiven but death is not your only choice! Throwdown your weapons and bend the knee and you will be allowed to take the black and serve out the rest of your days as sworn brothers of the Night's Watch. You will be on the front lines of the great war. I urge you to give up your helpless crusade and bend the knee to your rightful King; I King Jon of Houses Stark and Targaryen."

One of the men, an Umber he was pretty sure was first. He thrust his sword up in the air and screamed. "All Hail, Jon Stark! The King in the North!" He dropped to a knee and plunged his sword into the ground.

"The King in the North!" Another man echoed and then another and another until soon all the Northern men were kneeling before him. Then much to his shock, even the Lannisters knelt.

He watched as men fell to their knees all around him with a grin. The battle was won. He was now King in the North.

* * *

Jamie Lannister had thought wildfire was terrible but Dragonfire was worse. Wildfire was contained, it obliterated anything in its path but only what was in its path not everything in the surrounding area and certainly not as quickly or efficiently as the dragon did it.

He had feared that Snow's unbeatable plan involved the Night's Watch joining the battle or wildfire like his grandfather, not that beast. Dragons were supposed to be extinct, some maesters even claimed that they had never even existed. That was clearly not the case. Jamie like everyone else had heard the rumors from Essos about Daenerys Targaryen having dragons but they had been assured by Varys that those were just baseless rumors, inflated with every passing tale. Varys had betrayed them and freed Tyrion, why did they still assume his information had been correct?

Somehow Jon Snow had managed to hatch a dragon of his own, in secret, and some time ago for it to be as large as it was now. How had no one found out? The obvious answer was the more terrifying option. Jon Snow hadn't hatched his own dragon but instead borrowed one from his aunt, which meant she had dragons as well and if the tales were to be believed, they had two more dragons between them. Dorne might have taken out one dragon during the days of Aegon the Conquerer with the dragon killing scorpion. The walls of the Red Keep might be lined with those same scorpions even but Dorne had taken out one dragon with thousands of bolts over the years. Taking out three? That was nearly impossible.

After all, Jamie had sacrificed to try to keep his children alive, it would be meaningless in the end. He had given up Casterly Rock to save his daughters life. He had sacrificed his honor by killing Aerys. He had stayed away from his children to keep them safe from Robert. Yet, at the end of the day, the second Mad King and his Queen would complete his grandfather's work and burn all of House Lannister to the ground for Jamie's heroic actions. His children would die, they were too much of a threat for them to be allowed to live. Jamie would be executed for the one thing he did not regret. A Targaryen would sit the Iron Throne once again and all this bloodshed in the last twenty years, in the end, would have been meaningless.

He would never get to hear his son call him father. He would never get to see his daughter smile at him again. He would never hold her in his arms or console here on the loss of her mother. Jamie would die and his death would cause a power struggle among the Westerlands, the Lords who hadn't been pleased with him choosing to name Myrcella who was distinctly not a Lannister as his heir. The fact that her position was not yet official would make it all too easy to contest her claim.

Ser Daven would die with him here and leave the office of Warden of the West wide open for anyone to claim. Ser Kevan would likely be chosen by Tommen as he should have been before Jamie had ascended to the position. His claim would very clearly be contested by anyone with a drop of Lannister blood and would cause the Westerlands to wage war with itself as Lady Myranda Lefford tried to claim it should have gone to one of her daughters as she would be Ser Daven's heir and even Jamie's position wasn't really official.

Myrcella would have zero claim to the Westerlands after Jamie's death and as such useless to the Martell's so they would murder her and likely try to side with the Targaryens so Arianne could be Queen. With three dragons, the North and Dorne; while the Westerlands were caught in the civil war amongst themselves, there was no chance that Tommen would emerge victorious in their war. Both of his children would die here to put another Targaryen on his son's throne and it would be all because of Jamie that both his children died.

He had to survive so his children would. He couldn't do anything stupid and go out in a blaze of glory. He could pray that there were still some ballistae left that he could try to get to and get a lucky shot with, that would require the dragon being directly in his line of fire since the ballista had been built to destroy a still target, not a dragon so it lacked in mobility and adaptability. He could try to kill the dragon but the odds of success were infinitesimal and he would likely be killed in the process.

He could order his men to shoot arrows at Jon Snow and hope that they killed the bastard King but even if they did that would not stop the dragon from decimating the rest of them, heck, it would likely only encourage the beast to do just that if Jamie was remembering Tyrion's many ramblings about dragons correctly. If Jon Snow was the only Targaryen trying to threaten Tommen's claim to the throne than Jamie would give the order with only a little hesitation, Myrcella and he would die along with countless others but Tommen might live. He would save thousands of lives possibly and stop Kings Landing from being burnt to ashes once again. But fuck Kings Landing and all of its denizens. He had to protect his children, not the random commoners and that would be how he would stop Jon Snow if he was the only Targaryen.

However, Jon Snow was not the only Targaryen, Daenerys Targaryen was building power in Essos. After seeing one dragon, Jamie was inclined to believe that the rumors were true and she had more dragons. She would still be able to control the dragons without Snow and it would still result in both his children's deaths even without the bastard alive. He would have only removed any feelings of mercy the lost Princess might have had towards his son if he were to kill her nephew.

Perhaps Jamie should flee like a craven. Abandon his men to die at the hands of the Mad King and escape with his own life to try to keep Myrcella alive. Except if he abandoned his men to die would the Westerlands still accept him as their Lord? He doubted it. If they didn't accept him as their Lord than Myrcella again would be useless to Arianne and be executed before he returned to King's Landing. The only way she would survive was if Jamie somehow managed to get back to Kings Landing before news of his cravenness did and managed to abscond with Myrcella before she could be killed. The odds of that happening were only slightly better than him actually managing to kill a dragon.

The wildling sounded his horn once again, the same horn that had managed to summon the bastard's dragon previously, and Jamie tensed up expecting this to be the end, the moment he tore his dragon away from the Bolton boy he was eating to instead rain fire on Jamie and kill the rest of them. The horn managed to pierce all the chaos that had ensued in the wake of the dragon's arrival and attack and in spite of himself, Jamie found himself looking towards the bastard King once again.

The bastard had a huge grin on his face and he looked pleased as he witnessed the destruction all around him. He looked exactly as Aerys did when he would burn men alive. Unstable and insane, he took joy in their suffering. He liked watching them burn and would do so again with pleasure. His children would be burnt by the Mad King, as reparation for his most honorable act.

"Once again I offer you the choice, bend the knee, or die." The bastard screamed, sounding far too like his grandfather had before Jamie killed him. Fire and blood, that was the only way the Targaryens lived.

"Northern men, throw away your weapons, and swear fealty to Houses Stark and Targaryen and you will be allowed to live out the rest of your lives in service to your King. Your ignorance has been forgiven. You will be allowed to return to your families, alive and mostly whole." Jamie paused there. That almost sounded like Rhaegar, the bastard's father and not his grandfather, the mad one that Jamie had previously thought he emulated. Aerys would have never given the men a chance to turn after the first warning, he never would allow men to return home without any punishment after siding against him. He would have executed every single person who betrayed him without a second thought.

"Lannisters!" The false King cried out. "You have betrayed Houses Stark and Targaryen too many times to be forgiven but death is not your only choice! Throwdown your weapons and bend the knee and you will be allowed to take the black and serve out the rest of your days as sworn brothers of the Night's Watch. You will be on the front lines of the great war. I urge you to give up your helpless crusade and bend the knee to your rightful King; I King Jon of Houses Stark and Targaryen."

Jamie couldn't take that offer any more than he could flee or try to kill the false King. His taking the black would mean he loses his position as Lord of Casterly Rock and his daughter would lose her usefulness to Arianne Martell. She would be murdered and Arianne would side with the Targaryens. Tommen would lose the war and be killed as a threat to the bastard's reign. Jamie wasn't selfish enough to preserve his own life at the cost of his children's which is what he would be doing by surrendering here.

 _Jon Stark, The King in the North!_ Men all around him chanted as the Northern men surrendered to Rhaegar's son. Yet, the bastard had said he was King Jon of Houses Stark and Targaryen. He wasn't calling himself a Stark first because he was like his uncle, the honorable, judgemental, ironically even treasonous, holier than thou Lord Eddard Stark. Lord Stark would have never tolerated such a vicious display of power like Jon Snow's dragon. He had to be doing it for political reasons, to gain the North's loyalty beyond just their fear of his dragon. If that was the case than he had to have some political savvy, more than they had given the bastard credit for. The bastard wasn't mad and unstable like his grandfather- he was cold, cruel and calculating. He had offered mercy for the political value not because he was benevolent. His understanding of the politics involved in his decisions made him a more dangerous enemy than the first Mad King had ever been.

Jamie had value, surely, this King wouldn't be foolish enough to throw it away to force him to take the black. Jamie was Warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock, he was too valuable as a hostage to be wasted on the wall. He had even more value now than he had as Robb Stark's captive now and surely the new King in the North wouldn't waste that on revenge for his mad grandfather's much-deserved death. He was the father of the King for the Seven's sake. He would be kept alive as a hostage and in control of the Westerlands if he bent the knee here.

He had to betray his son in order to save his daughter's life. Even if he did betray his son by kneeling to this usurper it didn't guarantee his daughter's safety. Arianne Martell could still decide to side with the Targaryens and kill Myrcella anyways. He didn't think she would since the Martells hated the Starks almost as much as the Lannisters, and in particular Lyanna Stark but it could happen. He had to bank on the Martells greed to have Casterly Rock keeping Dorne on the side of Tommen. He had to hope that Jon Snow didn't offer to make Arianne Martell Queen of all the Seven Kingdoms because if he did than Myrcella would die.

Jamie would retain his position in captivity and it would delay the death of his daughter for a time at least if Arianne didn't ally herself with Snow. Tommen would have the best chance at winning his war if Jamie were a captive. The Westerlands would still be his so Arianne should leave Myrcella alive and there would be no civil war among the Lannisters for control of the West since it would just fall back to Jamie if he somehow escaped. The Martells would hopefully stay on Tommen's side and they might have a chance at defeating the dragons as Walder Frey would be forced to side with them and the Greyjoys likely would be in the same position. They could hopefully count on Baelish as well since they were the ones who had given him his power and maybe every other Kingdom united would be able to topple the Dragons with just the North at their backs. The odds of everything working out perfectly was small but surrendering was his best chance at ensuring the survival of both his children.

Jamie pulled out his sword and tossed it to the ground before dropping weakly to his knees in surrender and fealty to the enemy of his son. He hated this but he had no choice. He had to keep his children alive. There was no other way to do that but to bend the knee to Rhaegar's son and pray that the crone would guide him where he needed the false King to go.

As the handful of men who had not yet kneeled, at the dragon's roar, steadfast, remaining loyal to Jamie and Tommen until the very end saw Jamie's actions and surrender they too fell to their knees around him. They would declare this bastard as their king to ensure all of their survival and the survival of his daughter. For Myrcella and Tommen, Jamie would do anything.

* * *

**Holy shit writing action is hard, especially a massacre of such extreme proportions. I realize Rhaegal comes off as absurdly overpowered in this, and quite frankly he is but not this absurdly overpowered usually. The advantage of surprise was the key to this decisive of a victory. If they had prepared for a dragon then they might have held their own but they expected an army of wildlings, not a literal dragon. As such the ballistae were not designed for maneuverability but instead accuracy and force so as long as Rhaegal didn't fly in their crosshairs he couldn't be touched. There is also the psychological advantage of having a dragon that no one expects creates as the paralyzing fear of death on wings that you couldn't prepare for cripples them further. Future battles will not be as lopsided once they know that he has a dragon but the secrecy was the real weapon here.**

**Jamie finally grows a backbone and fights against the blackmail from Arianne now that distance has given him the time to think things through somewhat and realize how in theory he could murder the Martells before they have a chance to poison Myrcella if he is willing to say fuck it and let there be a war with Dorne. Something that on paper it's not hard to see Jamie deciding in the circumstances that force him to convince himself he's not the good man he wishes he was after being sent to kill the Tully's and before the moment actually arrives where he is forced to make a choice between thousands of life and the land he leans towards being selfish. Would he follow through on that decision had he been given the choice? Maybe or maybe not.**

**I've seen the promise to Rhaegar about keeping his children safe so many times in Fanfiction that I had honestly convinced myself that it was cannon when I wrote this. I fairly certain it's not now but it fits the theme of Jamie's arcs so well that I left it in. His whole storyline has always revolved primarily around broken oaths, and what honor truly is or if it's even possible.**

**The scene with Lyanna Mormont was originally supposed to be in the last Jon chapter but I opted to postpone it till this chapter since that one was already so long. Her interactions with Jon were a ton of fun to write since we know how steadfastly loyal she is to the Starks and the North as a whole. Jon in a lot of ways by proclaiming himself a Targaryen is threatening that. The taking the Mormont family sword was primarily meant to be a test to see if he was worthy of the sword and being a Stark King.**

**Giving people the illusion of a choice is one of the most powerful things that one can do to enforce compliance. When someone is forced into something they'll fight it kicking and screaming the whole way but when they think that they chose the same thing they'll follow obediently. Not giving someone a choice means even if it's illogical they won't obey but when they think they chose this path then it becomes what they want as it always has been. People like to maintain control and while you obviously don't want to actually give them control, you want them to think they have it. This will be a reoccurring theme in this story.**

**I might still decide to bring Bronn back because he's a really fun character but he was probably killed off-screen. In this time period, nobles are taken hostage to either be ransomed or just used as leverage to force a surrender and the common folk are too often executed when their commander loses as they have no value as prisoners. Actually, they have a negative value since they still have to be fed and confined which close confinement between hundreds of prisoners could easily cause diseases to fester that can cripple an entire army. Later in medieval times, we see common folk being held captive and ransomed back to their families with an oath to never take up arms against them again but there is no evidence of that actually ever happening in Westeros so it would be illogical to leave a single sell-sword who does not actually command any men or seemingly have value as a hostage alive.**

**Rhaegal had to land somewhere while they waited for their enemies to arrive and Skagos was the only logical location. Jon couldn't wait to call him much longer in case the Boltons attacked before the Lannisters got there believing victory to be assured anyway, and he couldn't exactly hide Rhaegal on the mainland where his presence would be detected beforehand and news could get to the Boltons. Skagos is according to the little we know about it, an island of undisciplined savages and a raider tribe. More importantly, is the fact that they are isolated from the rest of the world and don't follow the Kings of Westeros even if they are technically a part of the Seven Kingdoms. It's highly unlikely that they also have ballistae of their own so they have no real methods to harm Rhaegal and can't get information out to the Boltons or Lannisters. They're rarely visited by the civilized world, even by sailors and merchants, and considering no one actually believes Daenerys has dragons from the tales of sailors why would they believe that the Skagosi have a dragon on their islands from the same unreliable source.**

**I'm not a big believer in secrets especially when it is as widely known as Jon's supposed unbeatable plan. Even if Jon has a blockade in place to try to prevent external communications things will still leak out. Even when the Night's Watch was under a blockade, the occasional raven made it out. At that point, his resurrection was believed to be a baseless unsubstantiated rumor since so few were able to testify of it at the time. Jon has not made it a secret that he has claimed to have a foolproof plan and that is a much more believable thing to believe from a single source someone coming back from the dead.**

**Jamie assumes that Jon's giant is someone like Ser Gregor and not an actual twenty-foot tall behemoth as Wun-Wun is because giants are supposed to be a myth. The Boltons might know differently but they also assume that Jamie would know the same so they don't feel the need to specify to him what it actually is.**

**So everyone knows that Jon has an unbeatable plan but what will people think that it is? Will they think it's a bluff like Ramsay? Will they think that he expects a portion of the Boltons bannermen to betray them? Will he plan on going out for a treatise before the battle and breaking the tradition of treating and forsaking honor like the Boltons did? (While that would be extremely satisfying and amusing, it would be incredibly stupid to actually go and meet the Boltons in close quarters before the battle since the Boltons have already broken guest right once before.) Jamie is the son of Tywin Lannister who considers nothing is too sacred for a power-hungry man trying to win a war, and thus believes that he would do but Tywin would do. The Night's Watch is sworn to take no part in the wars of men so no one ever considers them a threat at all. If Robb hadn't broken his vow to marry a Frey, I do believe that Tywin would have found another sacred tradition or right to break and win the war. The Night's Watch is one possible avenue since most people there don't take their vows completely seriously and aren't loyal to the watch. If you neutralize those truly loyal to the watch and a King offers to let the Men of the Night's Watch leave and return to their old lives; 99% of them will take them up on that offer and do whatever the King commands. An unseen enemy that no one suspects is a powerful tool even if it's just a small force like the watch. We see the force that Stannis's cavalry charge has on a much larger wildling army in canon and while Stannis had more men than the men of the watch, so did the wildlings. If Jon did actually manage to mobilize the watch against the Boltons and catch them completely off guard than it is entirely possible he could have overcome impossible odds and taken the army. Not foolproof but possible with the element of surprise.**

**Of course, Jamie changes course here when he sees Jon on fire because of his history with Aerys and wildfire. He will always associate fire with the Mad King and his wildfire to destroy Kings Landing. When he sees Jon on fire, his mind jumps to the Mad King's grandson rather than Rhaegar's son. If Jon can't burn then why wouldn't a mad man burn everyone else? Wildfire is certainly foolproof if he actually gets to use it and is immune to it's effects. His sole mission very quickly becomes killing Jon before he can kill them all but aiming a bow at the top of a 50 foot tall wall and at only a single target, as small as ones head is not exactly a plausible goal and you realistically need to be even more precise to actually kill him and not just injure him. Even if Rhaegal hadn't stopped most of the archers from shooting by simply showing up, the odds of them actually hitting him in such a precise location while so far away is abysmal. Bows aren't really great weapons to use when trying to take a castle. The range of a English longbow while in medieval times was somewhere between 175-250 yards and that's at a flat angle and not shooting up against gravity. That's also not even factoring in how accuracy factors in. Shooting his unguarded face was always a longshot to stop him from killing them with Wildfire but what better chance did they have?**

**Sansa incorrectly assumes that Jon's other army was the Lannister one when he says that is time for his plan to be enacted since they're the only army that just not arrived. He tells her that Rhaegal is coming and of course she continues to not believe that dragons are real but when Jon slips and reveals to her that he's seen Rhaegal for himself; she forces herself to accept the possibility that maybe Jon is right about this. Regardless, it's too late to plan anything else with the armies on their doorstep so her only real option is to believe Jon and intend to commit suicide if he's wrong.**

**The Boltons canonical armor is so horrifying and grotesque like holy shit. They are definitely the most stylish of the Northern houses. Writing Ramsay is super hard and while he is a fun character, Roose even more so; I am very glad that they died and are no longer things I have to write.**

**Dragonfire is gruesome but considering the canonical ability to turn humans into ashes, armor, bones, and all the destructive power of it can not be overstated. 10,000-degree heat even in such a small spot for such a short period of time could theoretically cause some climate change even although in the world of Westeros where the weather and seasons don't behave normally probably not so it's only the clouds directly overhead that become superheated and disperse. It's not just the men in the flames who die but those around it who suffer the most. The men in the flames are dead before they process the pain but the ones caught in the blast radius burn to death slowly and painfully. The cold climate of the North is enough to stop a complete forest fire from erupting but when a dragon goes all out with no holds barred it's going to be devastating.**

**Like with Aegon taking Harenhal, this battle was more so about making a statement of how they should fear facing a dragon then actually just winning. Just Aegon showed that walls are no real challenge for a dragon to defeat and Jon took it a step further by saying if you face a dragon then you are actively choosing to court death with no help of otherwise. The US bombed Hiroshima with a nuclear bomb not just to win the war or avenge pearl harbor but to show people they were the most powerful and that opposing them meant death. A dragon is the medieval equivalent of a nuclear bomb. Devastation will always follow in its wake. Fear isn't always the answer but it is a powerful motivator and when you plan on completely rewriting the rules of society then it is a motivator you have to use. Fear won't always force compliance but it does help things along and it does make people willing to compromise.**

**Ramsay doesn't get torn apart by dogs set on him by Sansa in this but getting torn apart and eaten alive by a dragon is almost as good even if it ends quicker.**

**Jamie is put in an impossible situation here. His death means Myrcella's death. His taking the black means Myrcella's death. His fleeing like a coward would also likely result in Myrcella's death. Even if he somehow manages to kill Jon, it probably still means Myrcella's death. Jamie takes the only possibility that could mean Myrcella lives, surrender, and hope he's too valuable of a hostage to be sent to the wall. No one will start a civil war for temporary control, so even if Myrcella isn't given command of the Westerland forces right now, she will still be in the position to potentially be his heir. There is still the risk that Arianne cuts the cord with the Lannisters after finding out that Jon has a dragon and simply kills her anyway but it's a chance he has to take since it's the only one that might result in her survival.**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter somehow. It's far from my best work, and covered a lot of things that I have very little experience writing. Next chapter is a shorter one from Sansa's perspective for the aftermath of the battle but it also includes probably my favorite scene in this story so far. Look forward to that one next Friday.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter somehow. It's far from my best work, and covered a lot of things that I have very little experience writing. Next chapter is a shorter one from Sansa's perspective for the aftermath of the battle, and the unveiling of some of Jon's plans but it also includes probably my favorite scene in this story so far. Look forward to that one next Friday.


	24. Sansa III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa deals with the aftermath of the battle and visits with an ally.

Sansa smiled as Ramsay gave off another blood-curdling scream as the dragon dug into his abdomen. She finally had her revenge and Ramsay was suffering for what he had done to her. Jon had given her the revenge she so desperately craved and he was making Ramsay suffer in the most unbearable agony possible. He was being eaten alive, a fitting punishment for a thing that had liked to wear the skins of his victims. The man who had worn the skin of her own brother and his wife around his shoulders. The man who had raped her deserved all of this suffering and worst still.

Sansa couldn't look away from the Dragon enjoying its snack. Ramsay's chest was torn open as the dragon munched away on his insides. He was screaming the entire time, more than he had ever made her scream even. The dragon was brutal and did not care about the bastard's pain. He was getting what he deserved, Sansa only wished that she could be down there and watch as the light finally left his cruel grey eyes. Alas, Sansa was not suicidal enough to try to get near a dragon while it was eating.

No one was, well no one but Jon who had while Sansa was distracted by Ramsay's suffering not only had gotten the Northern Men to bend the knee but the Lannisters as well by promising them the wall. He was on the ground now, ignoring the know kneeling men in favor of approaching the dragon as Ramsay finally had fallen silent, dead at last. His last minutes filled with suffering beyond comprehension.

Sansa had thought Jon had lost it when he told her that he had a dragon waiting for his command to win the battle. She had gone along with his plan because there was no other choice at that point. She wouldn't let Jon blame her for his failures again.

If they had more time, Sansa might have even given in and written to Lord Baelish begging for aid in the battle. She had trusted Jon to know what he was doing like he had asked her to do, feeling guilty over how she had unknowingly foiled his first plot. Jon might not care for her or himself but he cared for Rickon at the very least and wouldn't have left Rickon at Last Hearth if he hadn't planned on winning their battle. He had told her that he had another army coming and Sansa had trusted him to be telling the truth. She figured that he must have offered the position of Hand of the King to Arianne Martell or something of the ilk in exchange for their aid. She had thought he might have taken on the name Blackfyre as a Targaryen bastard to secure the services of the Golden Company. She thought his confidence had been more than just false bravado. She had trusted him to know what he was doing.

She thought that Jon had betrayed that trust when he, like Robb had chosen his love for someone else over the tactically wise decision of marrying someone for political gain. She had thought that Jon's decision to marry Daenerys Targaryen and give up half of his kingdom for her was solely born out of a mistaken sense of love for the Queen of Slavers Bay because they had exchanged letters. She had thought Jon was a fool when he said that she agreed to send him a dragon for his war, a fool who had been duped into trusting a pretty face just like Robb had.

She had been wrong. Daenerys Targaryen clearly at least reciprocated some of Jon's feelings and was comfortable sharing half the Kingdom with her nephew if she had sent a dragon to save his life. Sansa had misjudged her, and she had misjudged Jon. Somehow they had managed to communicate and plan all of this despite being on opposite sides of the narrow sea where communications shouldn't be possible at the speed in which they appeared to have communicated yet clearly they had done so. Had Jon known of his heritage before he had come back from the dead? It seemed impossible but it almost had to be true for him to have formed such a strong bond with Daenerys Targaryen and her dragon while trapped in the North with her in Essos.

 _My Daenerys and my dragon_ Jon had called Daenerys Targaryen and the dragon apparently named Rhaegal his own. They could not be complete strangers, Jon was never possessive of anything as a child; even Sansa as distant as she had been of Jon had known that. He thought he had no right to own anything of his own. He didn't refer to Sansa as _my sister_ verbally or even the wildlings as his. It was always sister or Sansa, and when he was upset with her it was just cousin now. He never got possessive of her or Rickon or anyone else really, aside from Arya- at least verbally. Except for that one time when he had called Sansa _my sister_ when speaking of how awful arranged marriages were.

He had stuttered there, was he originally thinking of his Targaryen bride who had once been wed to a Dothraki Khal when he said that? Was changing course to _my sister_ just an effort to cover up his deeper relationship with the Targaryen woman?

Jon clearly had some romantic entanglements with Daenerys Targaryen in spite of what he claimed about their marriage being for politics alone. Sansa was admittedly convinced that marrying Daenerys Targaryen might be the best political decision if she truly had three dragons which after seeing the one that Jon claimed ownership of, she did believe was now the case. Armies were never truly secured and could be replaced. Dragons were clearly theirs and the only ones

How had Jon got involved with Daenerys Targaryen while he was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch? He hadn't gone galvanizing off to Essos while he was bound to Castle Black or else that would mean he had broken his vows and would have never been made Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. Someone would have said something while they were at the wall to either say something about Jon's trip to Essos or Daenerys Targaryen's visit to the wall. The latter was even more unlikely as word of Jon and Daenerys interacting would have spread like wildfire across all the seven kingdoms if she would ever visit the wall for even a single day. A dragon flying over Westeros wouldn't have gone completely unknown by everyone.

There was no plausible way for them to have met already and for Jon to have met Rhaegal as he claimed to have done, it simply wasn't possible. Jon could not be in two places at once; even if he could walk through the fire, summon a dragon and come back from the dead, he was not a god. So how had Jon planned all this with his bride? Sansa had to be missing something here. It couldn't just be letters that lead to this.

How had Jon managed to show the dragon where to attack and when? She wasn't the most familiar on the lore of Dragonriders as she had always preferred the tales of honorable knights rescuing the damsel in distress; over those of dragons like Arya had studied so religiously. Sansa was almost certain that dragons didn't communicate telepathically with their riders or else they wouldn't have been needed on the dragon's back.

How had the dragon known which one was Ramsay? Even if Jon could mentally communicate with the dragon, Jon hadn't known until Sansa told him. Jon had even had his eyes closed during the dragon's savage display of power. He couldn't have directed him towards Ramsay when he couldn't even see where Ramsay was at the time. Somehow the dragon had known and clearly obeyed Jon's commands to the letter despite him never speaking towards the dragon. It was almost as if Jon was the dragon but that was impossible.

But was it really? Sansa had never found myths to strike her fancy but she like every northerner had heard of wargs in legends. Men who could wear the skin of another beast and dictate that animal's actions. They were just a legend, or at least Sansa had thought they were but it seemed like all of the legends were now, in fact, real.

Dragons roamed the world, something that despite the lengthy histories, some maesters tried to claim never even existed. Magic, again something considered fictional by the citadel had restored her brother to life; another impossible feat. Fire was supposed to burn, it was common knowledge that everything and everyone knelt to the flames but Jon was the exception and allegedly his Targaryen bride as well. Even the Others were real according to Jon. Myths seemed to be coming to life all around her, so why shouldn't wargs be real also?

If they were real and Jon truly was one with his dragon then his actions towards Daenerys Targaryen logically made more sense. He might truly know that his Queen was as good as he claimed if he had observed her as a dragon. It would explain how he knew that Theon was in Meereen as well, sworn in service to Daenerys Targaryen. His spy network had risen up so quickly with seeds in the camps of his enemies, enough to tip him off to the Whitehill's planned betrayal even. How he had known the Umbers had Rickon at Last Hearth? Not because he actually had spies of his own but because he was a warg and had spied on them with a simple bird or something of the like. Jon could know everything that anyone ever said if he was a warg, able to inhabit the minds of animals and learn all that they knew.

There was no reason for Jon to not have the utmost of confidence in all his endeavors when he could find out anything that anyone had spoken aloud. That was a terrifying thought, she couldn't say anything to anyone without her brother knowing about it. On one hand, it made his victory in his quest to claim the Iron Throne inevitable but it also meant that Sansa would never be able to keep anything a secret from him. He likely already knew what she had done, the one thing she tried to keep a secret. She had cried to herself about it while with Theon after escaping Winterfell. She had told the one person she had thought would understand and he had. But now Jon knew as well and had yet to say anything. Why? Was keeping his superpower a secret that important to him? She had betrayed her family. She had betrayed her father and betrayed the Starks with that one action.

Sansa shook her self and went to go find Jon, she would not find answers here. She would have to confront him about it and force him to be honest with her. They were family and Sansa would not abandon him as she had done so as children and threatened to do again. Ramsay was dead and Jon had given her her revenge. That was enough for Sansa to want to trust him and see him on the throne, she had wanted to be Queen as a little girl but she was not that same girl. Sansa was content just serving alongside her brother, the King. If Jon was being honest about the line of succession then she would do so as the Lady of Winterfell and his Warden of the North. That was enough for her. 

Sansa did believe in Jon and this new world he claimed he and Daenerys Targaryen were going to build together. A world where a woman had a place alongside any man and a world where a little girl would never be sold to someone as cruel as Ramsay or Joffrey as she had been. It was an idealistic dream and before today, Sansa might have called it impossible but Jon had developed a habit of doing what Sansa considered impossible. Perhaps his new world he wanted to build wasn't just a dream. Sansa would support him every step of the way, in seeing his dream achieved. She would give up trying to undermine him and sabotage his efforts. He had given her everything she wanted without asking a thing in return from her. She would do her best to return the favor. Even if it was his aunt that he wanted she would do her best to help achieve his heart's desire.

Sansa descended down the stairs to the courtyard below with Brienne trailing behind her as her shadow, not comfortable leaving her side even after the Lannisters had surrendered and the Northerners had tried to crown Jon. Together they exited through the gates and on to the remarkably dry ground outside. Tormund was loudly barking orders at the wildlings as they put the Lannister men in shackles and then cages to be transferred back to the wall. She watched with satisfaction as Jamie Lannister was shoved into a cell with no care for being gentle with the man who had murdered their King's Grandfather, although she doubted that the wildlings understood just who Jon's grandfather had been.

Brienne stirred beside her and her hand came to rest on top of the lion head pommel of the sword Jamie Lannister had given her to protect Sansa as he had promised her mother. She glanced over at Jon who was stroking the head of his dragon on grass that was smoldering without any care for anyone other than himself and his dragon. Then she looked back at Ser Jamie. She sighed audibly. She didn't particularly want to get close to Jon's dragon anyways and she did in a way owe Ser Jamie her life. Perhaps, she should at least make sure he was treated at an acceptable level for a hostage of such high value.

"What are you doing?" Sansa scowled at a wildling who was trying to remove the Kingslayer's golden hand to keep as his own treasure or something equally barbaric. "Stop that!" She ordered

The wildling ignored her, clearly not caring for the King's sister's authority. He fumbled with the hooks in Jamie's skin as he tried to rip the hand off his body. Sansa noticed Brienne tense beside her as Jamie Lannister groaned in pain as he tugged on it. Sansa wanted to revel in the pain of the man who's son had executed her father but she also owed the Kingslayer her life and she felt obligated to do something to help him.

"I order you to leave Ser Jamie Lannister alone!" Sansa told the wildling in a snobbish tone.

The wildling took a step away from Ser Jamie and one closer to her. "Oh yeah?" He asked as he advanced on her. "What're you going to do about it girlie?" He asked and took another step towards her, close enough that she could smell his rotten breath even through the thick smoke that surrounded them.

Brienne tensed beside her and stepped in the wildlings path. Her hand pulled Oathbreaker from its scabbard, halfway; brandishing the steel to the wildling. "Lady Sansa told you to leave him alone." She said quietly and fiercely, ready to defend her if the wildling tried anything.

For a moment Sansa feared that he would actually do something stupid and reckless and try to attack her. She wondered if her desire to repay her debt to the Kingslayer would lead to her being injured or even killed. Wouldn't that be an ironic way to repay him saving her life?

Tormund thankfully dissolved the situation when he came storming over. "Baric!" He hollered. "Leave the woman alone! That's King Dragon's bloody sister. She ain't want nothing to do with your lot."

The gruff scraggly man took a step back and snarled before turning tail and fleeing to go loot someone else. "I don't actually care about golden hand anyways,'' he quietly muttered to himself as he stalked off.

Tormund turned to address Sansa once he was out of earshot. "You know this one? Is he one of our spies or something?"

Sansa blinked owlishly at Tormund's confusion and then couldn't stop herself from giggling. Why did she think the wildlings would know who the King Slayer was? They had no idea of what the sigil's adorning his helm meant nor the dishonorable acts that he had committed. They lived north of the Wall all their lives until now, separate from their Westerosi politics. Did they even know that Jon's grandfather had been a King?

"That is Ser Jamie Lannister, the Kingslayer. He murdered Jon's grandfather who he saw sworn to protect. He is also the father of King Tom- the man who currently sits on Jon's throne. He is a valuable hostage and should be treated with some dignity. We need him alive and whole."

"That's Ser Jamie Lannister?" Tormund guffawed. "The Kingslayer is some frail little stick of a man? I could snap him in half with my bare hands." Perhaps they did know at least some of the story of Jon's cruel and evil ancestors.

"If I still had my hand, you wouldn't last five seconds against me." Ser Jamie snarled. His actions were entirely unhelpful in Sansa's attempts to save his life.

"He has value as a hostage," Sansa repeated stubbornly. "He needs to be kept separate from the rest. He will not go the wall with the rest of the prisoners. King Jon can make better use of him here."

Tormund scratched his beard and seemed to be considering it before finally nodding his assent. "Alright, where does Jon want this one?"

Sansa thought over it for a minute. Where would Jon want the Kingslayer? She knew very little about how Jon felt when it came to his birth family. He cared for Daenerys and apparently Maester Aemon but what about the rest of them? She could feel her cheeks redden at that realization, she had been too caught up in her desire to see Ramsay dead to truly try to get to know her brother. She would do better in the future, they were the last of their family- well the Starks at least along with Rickon and hopefully still Arya.

She only knew that he was besotted with Daenerys Targaryen and had trusted Aemon Targaryen. She also knew that his dragon was apparently named Rhaegal, presumably after his father. Although if it had belonged to Daenerys Targaryen then it might have been her who named it and not Jon. Did Jon care that Ser Jamie had killed his grandfather? Or did he understand that his father and grandfather were evil men who deserved to die? Even if he did, would his betrothed demand Ser Jamie's execution in spite of his value to them alive? Would he cave to her demands?

She had never even tried to talk to him about how he felt regarding the Targaryens, that Ned was not his father, she had only been accusatory towards him. He had still given her what she had wanted more than anything despite her being awful towards him. She had to do better, she would be there for him in whatever capacity he needed from now on. For him and Rickon both, the lone wolf died but the pack survived and they were each other's pack now.

"Lock him in a cell in the dungeons beneath the keep." Sansa finally decided. "One of the larger and more well-kept ones. Make sure he has plenty of food and water, we can't have our hostage dying on us."

Tormund looked at her funny before nodding. "Ratrid! Groric!" Tormund hollered at two of the wildlings. "Come and help Sansa drag Ser Jamie to the dungeons to await King Dragon's verdict."

Brienne tensed from her spot in front of her. "We can take him ourselves," Brienne volunteered before her cheeks reddened rapidly. She turned to Sansa and dipped her head slightly. "If you would like, that is, My Lady."

Sansa sighed and glanced back at Jon who was still enamored with his dragon. "We can do that," She agreed. She wasn't particularly sure that she wanted to throw Ser Jamie in his cell personally but she knew Brienne cared for him in some way and she did owe him. She wouldn't chance him escaping, possibly with Brienne's help even or a wildling damaging his value as a hostage in some way.

Tormund frowned but nodded. "I have no doubt a beautiful strong lady like yourself can handle a puny man like him."

To Sansa's surprise rather than appear flattered at what seemed to be a genuine compliment, Brienne was angered. Perhaps at the insult to Ser Jamie? Was there more risk of Brienne betraying her to help Ser Jamie escape than she thought?

"I can," Brienne said curtly before grabbing onto Jamie's bicep and dragging him to his feet. He let out a grunt in pain as he was dragged along with Sansa following behind them. Brienne did not glance back at Tormund at all and she was hardly being gentle with Ser Jamie. Perhaps it really was that she was upset with the compliment. Brienne wasn't like Arya and offended anytime Sansa called her a lady so it seemed unlikely that she was upset about it? Did she think Tormund was mocking her?

"You don't have to drag me," Ser Jamie grumbled. "I can walk." For some reason, Brienne let go of his arm, and for a perhaps more surprising reason, Jamie made no attempt to flee even after she had let him go. Perhaps he assumed it was hopeless with a dragon outside. No, he had to just be waiting for the opportune time. There was no other explanation.

Sansa scowled at his back. "You are a prisoner, Ser. You don't get to do anything."

Ser Jamie turned towards her and smiled brightly, flashing his pearly white teeth. "It's good to see you, as well, Lady Sansa. I'm glad that Brienne was able to find you and you were able to find your way home safely."

Sansa frowned at the reminder that she owed the Kingslayer her life. He should have saved Arya as well, that's what he had promised her mother according to Brienne. She latched onto that idea like a lifeline not wanting to see him in any shades of gray. The Lannisters were vile and evil, dishonorable scum. He had failed. He was still the selfish and dishonorable, much-hated Kingslayer Lannister who Sansa held no warm feelings towards.

"Brienne," Sansa called her voice cold and emotionless. "Drag him, I won't risk him escaping on us."

Ser Jamie snorted at her and raised an eyebrow. "How do you think I could plan on escaping? Even if I could get to a horse and saddle it with my one hand, and outride whatever men your cousin sends after me; your cousin has a fucking dragon. If I tried to run I'd be burnt alive before I even make it a few miles. I do not plan on dying so I surrendered willingly and I'll remain the willing captive until the dragon is killed."

"Brother." Sansa corrected him. He was her brother in spite of what she had refused to see as children. Even if he was biologically her cousin, he was still her brother. "He doesn't just have one dragon, he has three," Sansa said coldly.

The shock and fear on Ser Jamie's face at that declaration almost made it worth the reprimand she would likely receive from Jon for sharing that. Jon would hate her again after she had betrayed his trust when he finally had told her something. Jamie was a prisoner so it hopefully wouldn't get out beyond him, or else Jon would truly be furious with her- even if he hadn't explicitly said to keep it a secret.

"Oh god," Jamie gasped and he stumbled. "He actually has three? We're all dead." He muttered quietly. He turned away from her and seemed to walk with some urgency as if he was eager to be imprisoned.

Brienne followed after him and Sansa trailed behind her, not entirely certain that Brienne wouldn't try to help her friend escape if she feared Jon would execute him.

* * *

"Did you know that King Jon had a dragon?" Lyanna Mormont asked her, for once looking a bit like the child she was with her enthusiasm at Jon having such a powerful weapon on the North's side.

Sansa pursed her lips, annoyed at having to answer the same question again. She had been asked it at least a dozen times by now. "I was aware that he had backup coming, a force that gave him enough confidence to think his victory was assured. I was not aware that he had a dragon as that backup."

Lyanna giggled slightly. "I can understand why he refused to divulge his plans now. If he had told us that he had a dragon than I would have believed him as mad as his Grandsire."

"I as well," Sansa agreed. She turned back towards the land outside the keep, intent on finding her brother and speaking with him finally. She had spent the last hour or so searching for him after leaving Ser Jamie behind in his cell with a few Slate men stationed outside as his guard. Jon had been lost in the throng of people, bustling about in the aftermath of the massacre. His dragon had taken off to who knows where while Sansa had been escorting Ser Jamie to his prison. Perhaps it went back to Daenerys Targaryen now that Jon was safe, or perhaps it was just getting food or something else of that ilk. Maybe Jon went with it and that's why she couldn't find him. Sansa hardly knew how a dragon behaved or even how Jon really behaved these days.

Of course, it certainly didn't help that the smoke was so thick in the air that she couldn't see much farther than a dozen yards away from her. The snow was finally sticking to the cooling ground outside again that had been ablaze only hours prior. There was a fresh layer underfoot, albeit only a few inches thick and the air was no longer dry and warm but more resembling the pleasant coolness of the North during the hottest days of the long summer which was still much colder than any day in the south. The sun had set and now the only illumination was the torches that were carried around as they still cleaned up the aftermath of the massacre.

"Where on earth did the King hatch a dragon? How could he do that while with the Night's Watch?" Lyanna asked; ignorant or Sansa's attempt to avoid her.

Sansa sighed. "His aunt, Daenerys Targaryen hatched him. Jon bonded with that one." Sansa hadn't been sure what Jon wanted her to reveal of his relationship with Daenerys or if she had sent it or if he had called it to him. She had settled for being as vague as possible while also being honest and consistent. Hopefully, Jon wouldn't get mad at her for sharing too much. As much as Jon might wish they could never tell anyone anything; they did have to give the Lords and Ladies at least a little for them to follow him.

"His aunt? The Mad King's daughter, she recognizes his claim over hers? The claim of a bastard?" Sansa said nothing, knowing that Jon had to be the one to break the news of their betrothal and plan to share power equally if it was to be accepted.

"That's one big fucking lizard!" A voice that unless Sansa was mistaken, belonged to the wildling that Jon had made his spymaster exclaimed eagerly. He had to be talking about the dragon right? Perhaps he knew that what Sansa suspected of Jon being a warg was true? If his spymaster knew Jon was a warg then did that mean he was one as well? She did wonder why Jon had unofficially appointed a wildling as being in charge of his spies in a land and with people that the wildling had no connection to or knowledge of. She hadn't thought that anyone other than Jon was a warg but could there be more than just him? At the very least he might know where Jon was surely, and if he was a warg then he would be able to find him for her.

"Were they talking to Jon? She could hardly make out the blurry figures but one of them vaguely resembled Jon and there was a flame near their head. She didn't even know if Jon was still wearing a crown, it was probably just someone holding a torch near their head.

Still, it gave Sansa an excuse to exit the conversation before she was asked more questions she couldn't answer. "If you'll excuse me, I need to speak with my brother," She said politely and quickly distanced herself from Lyanna to go back to searching for Jon.

She followed the voices from a distance as they conversed. "I trust you'll keep that between us? It's essential that this remain a secret." That sounded like Jon's voice although it might have been her imagination. He spoke quietly and Sansa had to strain her ears to hear what he was saying.

"Of course, Snow." The wildling replied. That had to be Jon, who else would they call Snow? It might be another bastard but it had to be Jon. She needed it to be him. "Not like anyone would believe me anyway. I tried to take it and it was like its mind didn't exist. Even humans you can grapple with their mind, fight for control, but that thing is like trying to take control of a rock."

Sansa's lips twitched as her suspicions were all but confirmed. He was cryptic enough that most wouldn't understand it but Sansa had already had her own suspicions and it was all the validation that she needed. Jon was a warg of his dragon and the wildling apparently was one as well. Of course, Jon had to be special there as well and be the only one able to warg a dragon, apparently. Jon could know everything that happened with his special abilities, they would know all their enemies' plans before they attacked. There was no chance he wasn't on the throne within a year as both a warg and with a dragon.

Sansa wanted to be honest with Jon after all that he had done for her. All he had ever asked for in return was her honesty and to get to know his sister. He wanted her trust. She couldn't eavesdrop on him and claim that she trusted him or was honest. "Jon!" She called out loudly, drawing his attention to her.

He somehow recognized her through the thick smoke and at a bit of a distance. "Sansa," He said in greeting. He turned back to the wildling; "If you'll excuse me Varamyr, I need to speak with my sister."

The wildling she now knew was named Varamyr bowed. "Of course, King Dragon."

Jon approached Sansa, closing the distance between them rapidly. He gently embraced her before pulling away. "Walk with me sister," He invited holding out his arm for her.

Sansa flinched reflexively at the gesture. Ramsay had taken a sick pleasure in making sure she was on his arm anytime she went out in public. He liked to lord his place as the Lord of Winterfell and as her husband over her, and all the other Northern Lords who had once scorned him for being a bastard. Ramsay was dead now and couldn't hurt her anymore, thanks to Jon. She didn't have to fear kind gestures from Jon like she did Ramsay. They were just that, kind and not used to hurt her.

Jon sighed and retracted his arm, walking back towards the blurry outline of the keep at a slow pace, likely expecting Sans to follow him. Sansa did just that and for a moment they walked in silence before Jon spoke up.

"How much of that did you hear?" Jon asked her quietly, mindful of any listeners.

"Enough for my suspicions to be confirmed. Enough to know that you're a warg." She whispered the last part, mindful of anyone overhearing.

Jon froze before sighing. "I trust you understand that this is to be kept secret?"

Sansa scowled. "I'm not an idiot."

"If you tell anyone it'll be considered treason. This is no game, we can not risk our enemies knowing about this." He warned firmly.

They walked in companionable silence for a moment before Jon spoke up again. "You said you had suspicions? Why? What tipped you off?" He asked with the slightest note of panic in his voice at the idea of others piecing it together as she had.

"Little things that you told me in private," She was quick to reassure him. "How you knew stuff that happened in Meereen so quickly. Why you were so defensive and possessive of your Targaryen bride and how you knew her so well. How you knew the Umbers had Rickon. How you knew of the Whitehills planned betrayal. How you were able to control when the dragon attacked and knew the exact moment he was in position, how you guided him with your eyes shut. Why you were so confident the dragon would come. How it knew to specifically target Ramsay and Lord Bolton. You knew so much because you can see the memories of the animals you warg into." She listed off all of the small hints that had clued her in.

Jon chuckled. "That's unfortunately not how they work, you can't see everything they have seen. You can only know what they learn while they are with you."

Sansa nodded. That was unfortunate and limited their usefulness somewhat but they still had value. Namely the ability to instantly communicate across long distances simply by speaking to a bird that someone was warged into or she supposed a dragon in Jon's case.

"I told the Lords that your dragon was sent by your aunt. I didn't mention the betrothal you offered or the shared power but they needed some answers." Sansa admitted, moving away from a subject that they probably shouldn't be discussing so openly, secrecy was the key to winning the throne. If the Lannisters didn't know about wargs than they wouldn't prepare for them just like they hadn't prepared to face Jon's dragon.

"Good." He nodded. "I need them to know that she's not her father. They have to recognize her authority and goodness for us to rule together. Thank you, sister."

"How do you plan on breaking the news to them? They follow you because you are a Stark. Your dragon is already starting to change their minds on that fact. As is the crown of fire. When you announce your betrothal to a Targaryen Princess, they'll think you're abandoning your Stark roots. You could lose the North." Sansa said quietly. She knew they had to ally with Daenerys Targaryen to avoid another Dance of the Dragons but she was concerned about what that partnership would do to those from the North. They didn't take kindly to southerners or Targaryen's with the possible exception of Jon although the jury was still out on that one. They still held a grudge against the Mad King and the Mad Prince for what they had done to the Starks. If they thought Jon was a Targaryen then they would go back to vying for the safe option of Northern Independence, free from his rule and Sansa doubted Jon or his bride would go for that.

"Queen." He chided. "There are other ways of ensuring that they know I am still a Stark than spurning my Targaryen heritage," Jon said dismissively.

Sans frowned, annoyed that Jon wasn't treating this matter seriously. He couldn't just force everyone to kneel through fear. His dragon wasn't immortal and Jon wasn't- probably at least. "Like what?"

Jon stopped walking and turned to her before reaching inside his vest. "Sansa Stark, I'd do you the honor of naming you, Hand of the King." He held out his hand to her and resting on his palm was a silver brooch with the same fist and sword sigil that her father had once worn.

Sansa stumbled. "What?" She gasped. "Why me?" She was in complete disbelief. Jon didn't trust her, she had given him no reason to do so and had undermined him at every possible opportunity. He had to be japing, there was no reason he had actually chosen her.

"As you said, the North has to remember that I am a Stark. If I make a Stark my hand, it makes it hard to believe that I am not a Northerner or loyal to the Starks." Jon explained. "You secure the loyalty of at least one kingdom for me." He snorted. "Besides, who else would I name as my hand? Tormund? They already hate that I have the Free Folk south of the wall. If I were to name one as my hand than a mutiny would be inevitable." Jon subconsciously rubbed the scar over his heart.

Sansa supposed his reasoning did make sense. Did that mean that he trusted her- at least as much as he did anyone? Why would he? What had she done to prove her worthy of that trust? His reasoning made some sense, but there had to be better ways to secure the North then to give Sansa such a powerful position that she could use against him. He had given her nothing that could be damaging to his schemes since then. What had changed? The North was as good as his as long as he toned down the burnings. " _At least one Kingdom."_ Jon had said. This was more than just the North.

"You plan on sending me to Riverrun?" She guessed. "To gain the allegiance of the Tullys and hopefully the entirety of the Riverlands."

Jon shook his head. "I'll go and break the siege on Riverrun myself. I can secure the Riverlands by saving the life of Lord Edmure Tully, promising revenge on the Freys, and with the familial connection through you, my hand as what seals the deal." He exclaimed calmly and then winced and looked away from her eyes. "I plan on sending you to the Vale. You'll catch a boat from Karkhold and arrive at the Eyrie within a sennight. You'll negotiate with the Lord Regent, Petyr Baelish on my behalf and secure the men of the Vale for me."

* * *

Sansa stared out at the shivering sea as the boat drifted away from the shore of the Karkhold and on it's way to the Eyrie as Jon had ordered of her. She had betrayed his trust once before and now Jon was returning the favor.

Jon had claimed that he wanted to get to know her so they could be a family, that had been a lie. He wanted to learn about her life so he could use the information she told him in solace against her. He used it to manipulate her into doing what he wanted her to do. She had thought she was being honored by being named his hand but it was all just part of another manipulation.

He had named her as his hand because she inadvertently held the key to securing three Kingdoms by his side in the war for the throne. Her Stark name guaranteed that the North he was still a Stark, and not just a Targaryen. Her Tully blood made it certain that her uncle, Lord Edmure would bend the knee to Jon when he ended the siege on Riverrun and broke the Frey's army.

She had told Jon of how Lord Baelish obsessed over her and cared for her. How he had wanted Sansa as his Queen and how he had sold her to Ramsay Bolton. He knew that she was Lord Baelish's weakness and he knew how she felt about him. He had chosen to ignore the latter in favor of the former.

Sansa wasn't angry at him for using the information that she had freely given him against her, that he used it to secure an army from a man she wanted dead more than anyone that was still alive. She was angry with herself for trusting that Jon would be different from every other player in the game of thrones. She should have expected that this would happen.

In some ways, Sansa was even proud that Jon was learning to play the game so quickly. This is what she had wanted him to become. She appreciated his ability to manipulate his subjects to give him what he needed and to secure his throne. She wouldn't be upset if he had done this same thing to anyone but her. Instead she would have been proud and approving. She knew she was being a bit hypocritical with that but it stung to be betrayed by the one man she thought she could trust with her more horrifying tales.

She would get him the Vale as he wanted, as much as she wanted nothing more than to have Brienne take Petyr's head. Sansa knew she would do it if she asked but she wouldn't ask. Jon had asked her to secure the loyalty of the Vale and she couldn't do that by killing Baelish.

In a perfect world, she might be able to reveal that Lord Baelish had been the one to kill Lysa Arryn, that it wasn't a suicide. She could even claim that Sweet Robyn was Baelish's son and not Jon Arryn's since she had been with him since before her marriage; it was a completely plausible lie.

Harold Hardying would inherit the Vale once she was certain that he would follow Jon, if not then she wouldn't reveal that Robyn wasn't Jon Arryn's son and would get Lord Royce to follow Jon as Robyn's regent. She would dethrone Baelish and finish getting her revenge while accomplishing what Jon has asked her to do.

That would never happen though, if she revealed the truth behind how Lysa died she would be confessing to her own guilt as well in covering it up. Her part in both the murder and covering up of her aunt's murder would see her headless as well- or well likely learning to fly when she was shoved through the moon door. She would only be guaranteeing the Vale never marched with Jon by exposing the truth behind her aunt's death. She would have to take a different approach even if it wasn't the one she wanted to take. 

"Lady Sansa," Brienne said, she gently tapped her shoulder. Sansa shook her head to clear the thoughts of Baelish from her mind. She needed to have a clear head to make the negotiations as impersonal as possible. She needed to not let anger cloud her judgment like it had when the Boltons were their opposition.

"Yes, Brienne?" She queried with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you sure you can trust your cousin?" She asked hesitantly. "That you will be safe?"

Sansa chewed on her lower lip. Could she trust Jon? She had thought so but then he had used the information she had given him to gain a kingdom. He had also named her as his hand and in spite of this one task he had given her that had abused her trust, he had been good to her. He had given her the revenge against Ramsay that so desperately craved more than anything else.

"Brother." She corrected with a slight frown. "Jon decimated the Boltons and Lannisters. He has a dragon, Brienne. He's better suited than anyone else in the world to keep me safe."

Brienne blushed and shook her head. "That's not what I meant." She sighed and locked eyes with Sansa. "I mean are you safe with him- from him?"

Sansa glared at Brienne. "Of course, I am. He's my brother. He'll keep me safe. I trust him to do that." _Just not with my secrets, not ever again._ "He would never hurt me."

Brienne did not relent at Sansa's declaration. "Are you sure that he's not as mad as his forefathers? Your mother always said he was untrustworthy and vile."

Sansa's frown deepened. "My mother thought that Jon was a bastard and that he would steal the North from Robb. Jon is not a bastard and he is not mad. He is a good man and my brother."

"How can he be good if he's burning men alive?" Brienne shouted back. This was the first time Brienne had ever been so vocal in her disagreement with Sansa's decisions. She had thought Brienne would remain loyal to her and uphold her vow no matter what. Perhaps that was not the case

"Those were evil men." Sansa said, unwilling to budge even an inch. "The Boltons deserved to die as they did. The fire was too kind to them."

"Not all of those men were," Brienne said quietly. "Some of those men had lives. Some of them had a family back home who they will never get to return to. Some of them were just innocents, who had no choice but to follow their liege lord into battle." She was on the verge of tears now. "Your brother killed them all, without any mercy because they stood by the Boltons. Not all of them needed to die."

Sansa's jaw clenched. "My brother offered them mercy. He gave them the chance to bend the knee before the battle. They refused and chose to die." She sighed, slightly exasperated with Brienne's naivety. "Even after they chose death, Jon gave them a second chance to bend the knee. Even the Lannisters were offered the wall as mercy."

"After he had slaughtered hundreds!" Brienne spat out.

"After he proved his strength and that he was a King." Sansa corrected.

Brienne looked away from her. "Ser Jamie told me that he had the same look on his face while his dragon was ravaging their army as the Mad King did when he killed your grandfather. Is he not just like him, burning men alive for pleasure and to force compliance through fear? Is he not just another cruel mad King who doesn't care for-"

Sansa snarled and stomped her foot, cutting off Brienne's tirade. "Enough. You should know better than to trust the word of the Kingslayer. He is trying to turn you against Jon who in case you forgot is the enemy of his son. This is a trick by the Lannisters. Jon is not mad. Jon is not his grandfather. Jon is not his father either. He's a Stark and my brother. He's a good man."

"Lady Sansa-" Brienne pleaded.

"I said enough." Sansa cut her off coldly. "What you speak of is treason, and I will hear no more of it."

* * *

"Sansa how wonderful it is to see you again." Lord Baelish said in greeting as Sansa stood before him. Alone, in the same room where her aunt had tried to kill her and Petyr had saved her by murdering her. Her heart was racing and her palms were slightly sweaty. She had hoped to never see him again.

She had left Brienne outside well she met with him so it was just them alone. They had to be alone for this to work, otherwise, they would just dance around each other and play games. Neither of them completely trusted Brienne. He could easily shove her through the moon door right now as he had her aunt, and she would be helpless to stop him. She would be nothing but a splatter on the ground in spite of all her titles and power she had worked so hard to accumulate. Her brother had a dragon but even it would be unable to save her.

"When I heard that you had escaped Winterfell, I feared the worst. I was overjoyed when I heard you had made it to your cousin at the wall. Then your cousin foolishly chose to try to claim the throne and there were enemies on all sides. I thought for sure you were lost to me." His voice was soothing and sweet as ever. She almost wanted to believe that he genuinely cared about her as more than a substitute for her dead mother. He almost sound the part of a concerned father even. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you escaped and made it here unharmed."

Sansa allowed some of her anger to leak through. "Tell me, Lord Baelish," She used the formal address intentionally to let her seem distrustful of him. "Did you know about Ramsay? What he had to Theon? What he would do to me?" Sansa accused. She knew the answer to the question already but that was part of their game. They liked to make the other admit what they already knew. Previously, Baelish had been the only player in the game but now Sansa would play it and win. She had the advantage here after all, she was his greatest weakness.

"Sansa-" He tried to explain but Sansa cut him off.

"If you didn't know you are an idiot, Baelish and we both know that's not the case. So tell me, why would you sell me to that bastard? Am I that disposable to you? Do you not care for me at all like I-" Sansa trailed off at the end there, intentionally offering him the carrot that she knew he craved so desperately.

"I miscalculated." Baelish conceded. He took a step closer to her and Sansa retreated a step instictively. "I thought that they would need you to be happy and healthy to retain control of the North. I knew what he did to the Greyjoy boy and I thought that it would please you. He was believed to have murdered your brothers. I knew he was cruel and vile but I thought your name would protect you from him as any mark on you would be foolish and cite a rebellion. I'm sorry that you suffered for my mistake, Sansa. I shouldn't have sold you to him."

Sansa this time was the one who took a step closer and pulled down the sleeve of her dress, leaving her collarbone- marred from the scars left by Ramsay's knives free to his view. Baelish's hungry eyes devoured her skin and the swell of her bosom that was visible as the dress was pulled down. Sansa resisted the urge to shiver under his gaze.

"Ramsay didn't leave a mark where others could see, he wasn't a fool. He needed my face, the face of Ned Stark's daughter to gain the North's fealty. But the rest of me? He did whatever he liked with the rest of me, as long as I could give him his heir. He raped me brutally every night. He took pleasure in beating me while he did so. He was not gentle. He was not kind. He was cruel and evil. You gave me to that monster, and for what? Your own ambition? Your desire to give me back my home?"

He took a step towards her. "I wanted you to be a Queen. I wanted to give you all your childhood dreams. You are the most beautiful and wonderful women in the world, Sansa, it is only right that you would be Queen. We would rule together, as we were always meant to be. I let my desire to give you the life you desire and deserve, cloud my judgment. I rushed things. I once again offer my apologies."

Sansa softened her gaze and smiled slightly but said nothing. "Now that your cousin is dead, we have suffered a setback. The North won't be ready for another war on behalf of the Starks, we'll have to be patient and bide our time for now. You'll be safe here, with me until that time comes."

Sansa laughed. "My cousin didn't die. He killed the Boltons and captured the Lannisters. He has been crowned as the King in the North."

Lord Baelish raised an eyebrow at that although Sansa doubted he hadn't already heard with his expansive spy network. "How did he manage that? I was under the impression that he was vastly outnumbered."

"He has a dragon," Sansa replied with a grin.

"A dragon?" He asks and Sansa nods. "So he's allied with his aunt then, that complicates things." She wasn't surprised that Baelish knew about Daenerys having dragons, his spy network was nearly as vast as the spiders had been before he fled. He certainly had trusted sources in Essos who could find out the truth of the dragon's existence. He also likely already knew that Jon had one but this was all just another part of his games.

Sansa took another step towards him. Her heart was beating rapidly at being so close to the slimy snake but she would have to get closer still. "He named me as Hand of the King and sent me here to give him the loyalty of the Vale."

"Congratulations on your title," He said honestly. "Why should I care if your cousin is on the throne? The Lannisters have been good to me, why should I risk my life in your cousin's war?"

Sansa took another step towards him. She was close enough that she could smell his perfumes now, a pine smell that wafted off of him. She could reach out and touch him if she wanted to. "My brother and his Targaryen bride want to break the wheel together, Petyr. They want to make a world where men and women are equal in the line of succession. Where no one will ever be forced into a marriage like I was with Ramsay and my mother was with Brandon Stark. She would have been free to choose you under Jon's rules. Jon has named me Lady of Winterfell, in spite, of Rickon being the male heir. He wishes for men and women to be equal in the line of succession, Petyr."

"All wonderful things I'm sure, but why should I care? Why should I risk my life on an order that provides little benefit to me?" Baelish asked once again. Sansa knew that he knew what she was hinting at and just wanted her to say that.

This is what Jon wanted, wasn't it? She had told him what Baelish wanted, why he had acted the way he did. He had to know that this was the only way to secure the Vale without a marriage alliance which he had already forbidden. She had to make Baelish think that was the end game here.

"My brother is a fool, Petyr." She lied. She took another small step forward and grabbed Baelish's hands in her own. "We help him claim the Iron Throne and become the King of all the Seven Kingdoms. Then when he and his Targaryen bride have an unfortunate accident, I will be his next of kin and his heir. Since I was my brother's hand, there would be no contesting that I was who he would have wanted on the throne after his death."

She took another step forward as her heart pounded loudly. She could feel his warm minty breath on her forehead. She was really doing this, it was what Jon wanted but it was not what she wanted. There would be no turning back from this. "I would be named Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and you would be my King. We would rule together and finally sit on the Iron Throne."

She closed her eyes and took the final step to close the rest of the distance between them and then pressed her lips to his.

* * *

**I didn't actually plan on having Sansa figure out that Jon was a warg in this chapter, just get close to the the truth and realize it in her next chapter but it just kind of happened while writing the chapter. She had information to much exclusive information that Jon had shared with her both on accident and on purpose for her to not have the hints required for her, a Northerner who has heard the Legends and even kind of experienced them.**

**I know a lot of people will be upset with the decision to not have dragons be able to be warged by Non-Targaryens or stolen from them but it had to happen. Initially, the planned plot of this book was centered around Euron with dragonbinder as the main antagonist but quite frankly I have no clue how to write a dragon centric plot where the dragons are stolen without this ending up with a Disney movie ending where love and friendship save the day. The only way to do that would be to make them end up having to fight and probably kill their dragons and if I tried to write that I would not enjoy writing it and as a result leave it unfinished so no stealing dragons by anyone.**

**So Sansa is Jon's hand. I'm sure this decision makes everyone mad since Sansa is a terrible character in the show who constantly undermines Jon, and is stupid, selfish, and power-hungry. She goes behind his back and works against his desires constantly believing that she knows best. Sansa in this has been exactly the same way. Those are exactly the reasons that she has to be Jon's hand.**

**Sansa needs to be involved in stuff and know at least part of what is going on in order to not make her own plans that sabotage him. She will not be a wallflower. She wants power and is selfish. Jon just gave her everything she wants both indenting her to him, and by setting her into a place where she is in position to become the highest power. Jon isn't stupid enough to trust her to look out for his own interests. He is trusting her to look out for her own self-interests which now demands that Jon win his war and take the throne. She is his closest kin once he and Daenerys die, and as his hand it will be very difficult for anyone to protest that it is she who Jon chose as his heir. Until Jon takes the throne she is now 100% trustworthy as she's only sabotaging herself by sabotaging Jon.**

**There is also the political benefit of choosing Sansa as his hand. She secures the loyalty of the North for him even as he continues to embrace being a Targaryen because he is raising a Stark up alongside him and they still are his right hand. He's making it clear that he is choosing both sides of himself in both actions and words now. There is also the benefit of her blood connection to the Tully's who were once Lord Paramounts of the Riverlands and could likely be won over revenge on the Freys, her place by his side, and the freeing of their family seat. Then there is the Vale where Sansa specifically told him that she was Baelish's weakness. He knows that Baelish's end goal is the throne with Sansa as his queen and Jon gave him a chance at both by siding with him. Since Lord Robyn Arryn just does what Baelish says, he gained the loyalty of the Arryns and a good portion of the Vale with that move. Sansa as his hand gives him footholds in three separate Kingdoms and there are very few other candidates that can even give him two yet alone three. He doesn't trust Sansa but she is the best choice and he can trust her to work alongside him for her own self-interests; he can not expect that of Arianne Martell or whoever else he might have chosen. In a perfect world, Davos or even Tormund would be the one he would trust as his hand but those appointments hurt his campaign not help it. He needs support more than he needs a hand that he likes at the present time.**

**It is a horrible thing to give Sansa to Baelish but it's something he had to do just like how he had to swap Gilly's child as Lord Commander. In order to make things better, sacrifices have to be made and one must compromise. He left the decision of how to gain the Vale up to Sansa because the illusion of choice is an extremely important method to avoid building resentment and rebellion but he was aware this was how she would do it because it's the only way she could succeed and she wouldn't accept failure- that's not who Sansa is. Sansa didn't enter into a marriage alliance with Baelish seeing as how those don't exist anymore according to Jon and he won't make an exception with that but he did let Baelish think that Sansa reciprocates his feelings. It's awful an inhumane but when it secures you thousands of men it's the decision that must be made. Do the ends justify the means? In Jon's mind the answer is yes as awful as these means are.**

**Someone had to take Jon's decision to burn men alive for opposing him horribly even though tactically it is a good decision, and from a personal agony standpoint, instant death by fire is less painful than by the sword. That person naturally always had to be Brienne. She's the most textbook honorable and always do the right thing character in GOT and she is one of the few who knows the depths of the Mad King's madness. She tries to convince Sansa that Jon is dangerous and unstable.**

**Many people noted the comparisons between the Mad King and Jon in the last chapter. Those were entirely intentional but that does not mean that Jon is mad. He is paranoid, overtly so but that is an unhealthy habit and self-destructive behavior, not madness. He has dark fantasies and enjoys watching men burn alive. Again, not healthy but dark fantasies don't mean you are evil or mad, no more than lusting after a teenager makes you a pedophile. Actions define who you are not thoughts. Lots of people have dark fantasies it's only when you act on them that you become those things. The Mad King was mad because he had no impulse control, or ability to understand the consequences of his actions not because he was paranoid or liked watching things burn. Those fed into his madness but they weren't the cause of it. Jon will be compared to the Mad King quite often because of his proclivities but as long as he can control his impulses and remember that actions have consequences, as long as he feels empathy he will remain sane.**

**A lot of people pointed out that killing the Mad King was not actually honorable of him as he sat by and did nothing as his father sacked the city and I agree. It was very much him choosing to save his father and not the people just like Aerys was burning them to kill the armies and not the people. In fact, one could argue that Aerys's plan to burn down Kings Landing was nothing short of tactical genius. He had at least the Lannister, Baratheon, and Stark armies all in one place caught in the blast radius of the wildfire. Presuming the wildfire was not also in the keep which seems logical, he would have wiped out all of his enemies without losing a single man in his own armies in the battle. He would have secured the throne for House Targaryen for another hundred years in one fell swoop even if thousands died in the process. It would be ruthless but effective and no more ruthless than what Tywin did to Castamere. I'm not even entirely certain that he even was deranged when he gave the order to "Burn them all" it could easily be Jamie's mind-warping the event to help him cope with it. It has been twenty years since this happened when we learn of what he remembers of it and as I've already said multiple times memories are not infallible and are warped to fit our perceptions and exaggerated in our minds. I'm not saying the Mad King is good or anything but calling him evil because of Jamie's account of that event is stupid. That being said no one will commit political suicide by defending the Mad King so he will be always be villainized to comical proportions in this.**

**I'm not entirely certain if the next chapter will be Daenerys or Jon since I still haven't decided if I want to cut up the next Jon chapter in two since it's absurdly long. Regardless, it will be out next Friday. Thanks for reading.**


	25. Daenerys IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys speaks with Arya, speaks with the new caption of the Storm Crows, and hears of Jon's victory at Last Hearth.

Chapter 25: Daenerys IV

Daenerys woke up early as she always did, hoping to see Rhaegal had come back from wherever he had gone. Alas, once again, he was nowhere to be found. She had naively hoped that he had left because she refused to listen to him about Daario, and now that he was dead, Rhaegal would return, but that did not actually appear to be the case based on his absence once again this morning.

She resisted the urge to cry out in frustration at his continued avoidance of her. Rhaegal had brought his siblings back to her only to leave himself. She had been so consumed by her emotions when Rhaegal had revealed to her that Goatherd had lied, and Drogon was innocent of killing Zalla.

She had climbed on Drogon's back without thinking and flown off with Viserion hot on their tail. She had wanted Goatherd to burn for his lies and had been consumed by her desire, she had never checked if Rhaegal was following them.

Rhaegal probably felt abandoned by her decision to ride on Drogon instead and now he had left her, for who knows where. She had tried to ask Drogon to find him but he was clueless or simply refused to divulge his location.

She sighed as she watched the sunset for any sign of Rhaegal coming to visit her. She loved Drogon and she was sure that he was the one she was supposed to ride but he wasn't Rhaegal. Drogon was her companion and her familiar, the one that she just felt right when seated on their back. Drogon was the one she would ride into battle and take the throne from the back of.

Rhaegal was different. He might not have been the one she was destined to ride but he was her best friend. He was the caring one who understood what she needed when she needed it. He was the one who she would hold real conversations with and had no fears sharing anything with him. He was the one who was always there for her, her closest confidant. The one person in the world she was confident she could trust to never betray her.

She had enjoyed their morning conversations just as much as she enjoyed flying on Drogon's back. He was as intelligent as any of her council and she had trusted his advice almost every time. She missed having his help ruling her kingdom. He had been her right hand while she ruled Meereen, both the authoritarian who enforced her laws, and the one who she'd consult while making them.

She giggled at the thought of how people would react if she tried to name a dragon as Hand to the Queen. He had essentially been the closest thing to that for her since he had freed himself from his chains. As funny as it might be, she obviously couldn't actually name Rhaegal as her hand. They would think her madder than her father even if he would be and already was a great one.

Oddly enough, Drogon and Viserion even had shown no understanding when she tried to communicate with him in the common tongue. He could understand a handful of Valyrian commands seemingly but nothing in the common tongue. Rhaegal had understood the common tongue only and very little Valyrian. Why did Rhaegal speak a different language? It made no sense at all to her.

Without Rhaegal here Daenerys knew that the sons of the Harpy would rise back up. Daario's execution for rape wouldn't be kept quiet and they would learn that Drogon and Viserion weren't like Rhaegal and able to detect crime and stop it in a brutal fashion. They would cause havoc once again- until Rhaegal returned. She would do her best to stop it on her own but Rhaegal had given her more help than anyone in running her city and now he was gone.

Perhaps if he had stayed, Arya Stark wouldn't have been raped by Daario. To think she had once let that pedophile and rapist share her bed. He had shared her bed the night before he had gone out and raped Arya even. It was horrifying, she had never suspected a thing, but Rhaegal had known, he always knew.

She had chosen to ignore his instincts or perhaps his knowledge of the future. Maybe he had Dragon Dreams just like Daena did. She had trusted him with her nephew, about Zalla, with her safety, with the Harpies, about the Others, and even about Theon Greyjoy when all of her council argued differently. Why had she refused to believe him about Daario? Was it her lust that blinded her? Why did she dismiss his hostilities as jealousy? He never acted that way towards Missandei or Jhiqui. Not even Tyrion did he regard with such contempt. Daario was the only one who of those whom stole their time together that he was actually antagonistic towards. In hindsight, she should have executed Daario the first day that Rhaegal had attacked him. Rhaegal always knew best and she would never doubt his judgment again.

Would her nephew hate her for letting his cousin- sister, whatever they called their relation be raped? Daenerys was sure that if their positions were reversed she would hate her. She had a family now. That would never stop being weird. She had a Targaryen nephew and his supposed sibling was currently in Meereen with her, sleeping away her injuries that had come at Daario's grubby hands.

She should have listened to Ser Barristan even and not have knighted Daario. She had been foolish and blinded by her lusts for him. She had been unaware of Westerosi culture when she made her decision and now his crimes were also her own in a way. She had been the one to trust him with such responsibility and to call him a man of honor by knighting him and now her own judgment was called into question. If she could be so wrong about her "paramour" then why should anyone ever trust her judgment? All that decision had wrought was her appearing as mad in the eyes of the people of Westeros. From a political perspective, it probably would have been better to declare Arya as the liar and arrange Daario's death in service. That's what she was certain Tyrion and Varys would have advised her to do. She had hurt herself by seeking justice above all else. All because she had ignored her advisors and knighted Daario, believing him to not be the complete scum he was.

She sighed once more. As much as she needed to confide in Rhaegal right now, receive comfort from him, she couldn't. He would reassure her that she didn't know better like he always did. He would tell her what to do with Arya, how to make up for what she had allowed Daario to do to her. That was not an option today, or possibly ever again. Rhaegal was gone and she would have to figure this out for herself.

She turned and headed back inside, leaving the balcony and any hope of Rhaegal visiting her today behind. She still had hours before she needed to attend to any petitioners today but she would do something more productive then mooning over Rhaegal's absence. She had a niece to get to know and by extension her nephew. Granted she was likely asleep at this time but she still wanted to check on her, it was her fault that she was in that position after all.

Daenerys stepped out of her chambers and past the unsullied who stood stationed outside of her chamber throughout the whole night. She nodded at them as she walked past them down the long hallway to the stairs as they had Arya situated on the ground floor for ease of access when they first brought her back here.

She descended the stairs two steps at a time, eager to get to see her new niece. She might be sleeping but it was still exciting to actually have a family of a sort there in Meereen with her. She really wanted to converse with her and if she was awake then she didn't want to waste any time since she did have a finite limit on their time together before duty called her away for the day. There had to be a chance she was awake anyway right? At the very least it was a distraction from mooning over Rhaegal and stewing in her guilt for a while.

She quickly reached the door and put her hand on the doorknob to push it open before remembering her manners and instead knocking. It only took a moment for the door to be opened by a surprisingly awake and functioning Arya. She was dressed in the same gown Daenerys had lent her yesterday to go confront Daario. She supposed it was the only thing that the girl owned right now and she wasn't comfortable appearing naked in front of anyone, she could hardly blame her.

Arya bowed when she realized who was at her door, "Your Grace," She said quietly in Valyrian, grimacing as she bowed.

Daenerys's lips twitched slightly into a frown. "Skip the pleasantries while we are alone. No need to bow if it causes you any pain. You didn't need to stand to open the door either, I'd rather not cause you any more discomfort than necessary."

Arya frowned. "I was already up. I'd rather not spend all the day lying around, it's not like the pain will go away if I curl into a ball and hide. All men must die, I'd rather not waste my limited time doing nothing."

Daenerys nodded and entered the room shutting the door behind her. She could understand that desire, she had been the exact same after a while with Drogo. Her crying and doing nothing wasn't going to change her circumstances, she would always have been in that situation unless she had been assertive about it and taken control as she had. "Please call me Daenerys," She replied pleasantly. "We are family after all."

Arya frowned slightly. "Are we? Why are you convinced that Jon is a Targaryen all of a sudden? That he is unburnt? He has the looks of a Stark, Your Grace. He is my brother. A Stark." She said adamantly

"Would you prefer to talk in the common tongue? I am quite fluent in both languages." Daenerys asked after Arya badly butchered the word unburnt.

Arya nodded but scowled. "You still haven't answered my question, Your Grace," She said petulantly in the common tongue of Westeros.

Daenerys sighed. "You'll want to sit down, the tale is not a kind one." She took a seat on the edge of the bed and Arya sat down beside her.

"Are you aware that your brother was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch?"

Arya nodded. "Yes. I hardly see how that has anything to do with him being a Targaryen." She said impatiently.

"Are you aware that he let the wildlings settle in the gift?" She pressed, ignoring Arya's impatience. This wasn't a story she wanted to rush, it could not be easy to hear that who she believed was her brother died.

Arya scowled but nodded. "I heard that while I was in Braavos"

Daenerys sighed and grabbed Arya's hand. Thankfully, she did not pull away from her. "There is no easy way to say this but your brother died. He was killed in a mutiny at Castle Black."

Arya shook and her eyes swelled up with tears. "Jon is dead?" She asked quietly, in disbelief as she pulled away from her.

Daenerys smiled and was quick to reassure her. "He died but did not stay dead."

Arya had a perplexed expression on her face at that statement but said nothing so Daenerys continued. "Prince Jon was dead for seven days but when they put him on a funeral pyre, he did not burn but instead rose again."

"How?" Arya demanded at Daenerys's rather simplified explanation. "That's not possible. All men must die. Death can not be defeated, it's the only certainty in life."

Daenerys shook her head somewhat fondly. "Prince Jon is no man, he's a Targaryen. A red priestess used foul blood magic to bring him back to life, the fire re-awoke his body." Daenerys did not miss the clenching of Arya's jaw at the mention of a red priestess or perhaps it was blood magic, she obviously had some bad experience with one of them like Daenerys herself did.

"So because Jon did not stay dead you believe that he's Lyanna and Rhaegar's son? What if it was just the blood magic that brought him back that made him unburnt?" Arya repeated Daenerys's own questions when she had heard of Jon's resurrection.

Daenerys shook her head with a small smile. "We considered that. Lord Tyrion spoke to another red priest about that very idea after we initially heard of Prince Jon's resurrection. He's not the only one to be resurrected by a red priest, but he is the only one to become unburnt after being brought back. Rhaegal also vouched for his heritage."

Arya gave a sharp intake of breath at the explanation Daenerys provided. "He's not the only one to defy death? Who else has done so?" She demanded, her eyes frantic and searching, obviously in disbelief at the concept of death not being permanent, the idea of her brother truly having died and coming back.

Daenerys frowned slightly at the line of questioning. Why was she not just happy that Jon was alive? Did it matter that he was not the only one to defy death? "I don't know, I just know that the red priestess knew of Prince Jon's resurrection before we told them and said he wasn't the first to come back. She didn't name any examples."

Arya seemed to be frustrated by the non-answer but nodded her acceptance all the same. "So where is Jon? Is he here?" She asked hopefully.

Daenerys sighed. "Jon is not in Meereen yet although I sent an envoy to bring him here if he chooses to do so. As far as I'm aware, he's still holed up in the Last Hearth waiting for the Bolton and Lannister armies to arrive for battle…" She sighed once more and forced herself to keep her face blank. "He's outnumbered three to one, and will likely die before we ever meet. There's nothing I can do to help him." She said quietly.

Arya said nothing at that but did look notably concerned at the idea. "You said that Rhaegal- your dragon, confirmed that Jon was a Targaryen? How could it know that?"

"He." She corrected gently before answering the question. "Rhaegal always has a way of knowing things that should be impossible. He understands the common tongue, as well as any human and, will give gestures in response to questions. He would hunt down criminals and execute them for their crimes in the act. He saved my life countless times over. He knew that Drogon hadn't truly killed a little girl like I had thought and took me to Drogon to apologize and explain the situation. He knew that Daario was not to be trusted and I foolishly ignored him." She sighed and looked away from Arya. "He's always been right about everything and I ignored him that once so you suffered. My hubris led to your rape."

Arya remained as stubborn as she had been the previous day before Daenerys knew who she was. "You couldn't have known who he was, you could hardly execute Daario on your dragon's hostility even if you did. I don't blame you for my rape and neither should you blame yourself." She declared resolutely. "The only one to blame is myself for being so foolish as to walk around dark alleyways, without any means to defend myself."

Daenerys forced a small smile at Arya's declaration of her innocence. "Let's just agree it's neither of our faults and put all the blame, where it lies, with Daario Naharis." It was her fault though, even if she knew Arya would never let her accept the blame.

Arya gave a small nod in consent and then they sat in companionable silence for a moment before Daenerys finally let her curiosity win out over her sense of decorum. "How did a Stark wind up here in Meereen?"

Arya looked away from Daenerys for a moment. "The same reason anyone comes to Meereen these days, I wanted to see the Dragons. As a young girl, I was always obsessed with the stories of dragons and their riders. Visenya was my hero. My entire family was lost to me when I fled Westeros. My father was executed by Joffrey, my mother and eldest brother executed at a wedding while protected by guest right." She squeezed Daenerys's hand gently likely looking for emotional support of some kind.

"Bran and Rickon had been murdered by Theon Turncloak, and Sansa was missing after the purple wedding, nowhere to be found. Jon was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and as such not allowed to help me. I tried to go to my Aunt Lysa but she had just died as well. A Lannister soldier had just killed my traveling companion and was searching for me. There was nothing left for me in Westeros so I left and booked passage to Braavos."

"In Braavos I heard of the Dragon Queen and it sparked something inside of me that I had not felt for a long time. I felt like a child again and dreamed of Dragons once more. I had nothing in Braavos, I had nothing anywhere. The only person I wanted to see was Jon who was off-limits at the wall where no woman could go. If I had been able to, I would have given up everything and taken the black to be with him but that just wasn't possible. I needed to start over, to leave Arya Stark behind, so I sold Needle- the sword that Jon gave me before he joined the Night's Watch and that had saved my life many times in the past to afford passage to Meereen. I would live in a new world where dragons roamed and dreams still came true. Where I could be someone other than Arya Stark, a homeless girl with no family left in the world. It was an overly idealistic dream that was only bound to disappoint. That was a mistake. I was robbed my first night in the city and without a weapon to defend myself, I became homeless and defenseless. I was raped by Daario only a few days after I arrived here."

"Did my dragons live up to your expectations?" Daenerys asked curiously after another awkward lull in the conversation. Would the Starks fear her children? Would her nephew refuse his Targaryen side and shun her children? Would he be afraid of them? Arya was not Jon but she would give her a general idea of how the Starks and the Prince might think of dragons.

"No, Your-Daenerys. They surpassed them, a hundred-fold. They're the most beautiful and magnificent creatures I've ever seen." Arya responded cheerfully. "The white one is my favorite."

Daenerys smiled at that. "Would you like to meet one once you've recovered?" She offered, partly out of guilt for what Daario had done and partly her wanting her children to connect with their cousin. "I'm afraid you probably can't meet Viserion as he and Drogon are more hostile towards people other than me so it would likely have to be Rhaegal you meet. Rhaegal is very friendly and passive towards those who are good."

Arya hesitated but then nodded eagerly once more. "I would like that, Daenerys." They once again fell into a companionable silence but this time it was Arya who broke it. "I presume you didn't come here to hear about me but my brother, Jon. What is it that you would like to know?" She asked openly.

Daenerys felt slightly guilty at caring more about second-hand stories of her nephew that she would never get to meet than the girl in front of her who had been raped because of her but nodded all the same. She did want to know her nephew more than his family. "Everything." Was all Daenerys said in response.

Arya nodded. "Well then let me tell you about how Jon taught me to use a bow right under my mother's nose until I was a better marksman than him even."

* * *

Daenerys had enjoyed her conversations with Arya over the last few days immensely. She finally had a grasp on who her nephew really was. Theon had given her anecdotes about Jon's life but he had lacked an understanding of who Jon was and why he did what he did. Arya's tales made her feel like she actually knew her nephew. The passion and love with which Arya spoke of her nephew made the man in the stories come to life and Daenerys was extremely eager to finally meet her nephew if he somehow manages to survive the conflict with the Boltons and Lannister forces. He sounded like a wonderful man and one that Daenerys was proud to call family, unlike all of the family she had previously known.

Her nephew was a lot like her. He knew what was good and what was not. He understood evil even four years ago when Arya last saw him. He understood that it was wrong for Arya to be forced into being someone she didn't want to be, a Lady. He tried to give Arya the choice to be the warrior she wanted to be even when she wasn't allowed to be one and he had no real power. He still did everything he could to help her. Her nephew was not blind to the injustices of the world, he was a bastard and from what she knew from both Arya and Tyrion had a soft spot for the weak and powerless. Despite not ever being shown love by his aunt, the Lady Stark or his eldest sister he still cared for them and didn't turn hateful or against the world as most lesser men would, as Viserys had. She would be glad to have him by her side when she built the new world and he would serve well as the Warden of the North and her master of laws if he wanted the spot. _And if he survived the incoming battle with the Boltons or Lannisters that was likely going on right now. He might even already be dead and she just didn't know it yet._

She had taken to conversing with Arya in the early mornings, a time that had once belonged to Rhaegal. Rhaegal had abandoned her, there was no more denying that fact. He was gone for whatever reason. Yet unlike with Drogon and Viserion, she knew that Rhaegal's motives for fleeing weren't particularly vicious. He still cared for her she knew, he had reunited her with her other children, against her protests to the contrary before he had left her. He had always planned on leaving for a time, she just didn't know where or why. She rarely understood why Rhaegal acted the way he did though so her confusion was hardly unusual. What was unusual was his leaving her, that was something he had never done for more than a day since he had freed himself from the cave and he had rescued her from the Dothraki sea.

Daenerys missed the opportunity to speak to someone as good at listening as Rhaegal was, it helped her process how she felt about things she couldn't speak aloud to any humans. Drogon was not a listener nor was Viserion. Missandei and Arya were good listeners and she enjoyed her time with both of then but there were things she couldn't voice to either of them so it stayed pent up insider her.

She needed Rhaegal back, to apologize for trusting Daario- for letting Arya be raped. She also needed to confess to someone who would not judge her that she was somewhat glad that Arya had been raped as it had brought her before her. She wouldn't have known Arya without Daario's actions and she really did not want to give up their friendship, nor the knowledge of her nephew she had gleamed in her talks with Arya. She wished that the rape wasn't how they were introduced and that Arya had never suffered that way but to herself and Rhaegal if he were here, she would admit that if this was the only way she could learn all of this about her nephew and Arya then she would let Arya suffer again. It made her feel completely awful but it was the truth, the truth she could never voice aloud to anyone ever.

Daenerys had made a mistake by trusting Daario and she would not repeat that mistake with the new captain of the Storm Crows that she was supposed to meet with any minute now. She had to keep them loyal to her with gold and nothing more. She had to be clear that just because they served her or had a position of power did not mean that their abuse of power and law-breaking would be tolerated. She had to show them that she had an iron fist and would not give them any leeway as she had with Daario, they needed to fear the consequences of angering or betraying her. She would never risk having someone she did not trust in her bed or on her council again. He would receive his orders but have no say in the decision-making process of Meereen or the seven-kingdoms. If Daario had betrayed her by raping her people then what was to say that he hadn't sold her secrets as well? Why would he stay loyal in that area? Varys probably would have informed her if the false king Tommen had information about her but what was to say that the Lannister's weren't marching North to defeat her nephew on Daario's report of his heritage. He might have been unburnt and resurrected publically

They called their new commander the Widower. An ominous name that made Daenerys more than a little bit worried about his character. His true name was Kyrven but people called the sour-faced older man the widower because he made many women a widow and was rumored to brutally rape those newly widowed women. It was incredibly important that she be firm with him and tell him that his practice of raping and killing cease or he would be burned alive. She would not repeat her mistakes with this new commander.

She had thought that the Storm Crows had been kept in check under the command of Daario Naharis and that they had followed all of her laws but if Daario had been breaking them in secret them how many many of his underlings did the same right under her nose. She had to put a stop to it, even if it meant making an example of the new commander of the Storm Crows.

"Your Grace," Missandei said gently pulling her out of her wandering thoughts. "Captain Kyrven is here to see you as you requested."

Daenerys nodded and steeled herself for what was sure to be an uncomfortable confrontation. Missandei opened the door and Captain Kyrven walked in and immediately dropped to a knee.

"Your Grace, on the behalf of the Storm Crows I offer our humblest apologies for the actions of Daario Naharis. His actions were unforgivable and he deserved his death."

Daenerys resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his theatrics that he obviously did not mean. He like Daario would swear to be good and honorable to her face before going behind her back and raping innocent children. "Forgive if I find it hard to believe that a sellsword company who has been paid to rape and pillage finds issues with their captain doing such things." She said clearly and emotionlessly.

The Widower sighed at her as he rose from his knees to address her. "You're right, we have no problem raping, murdering, raiding, or pillaging. Daario Naharis did not deserve death because he raped a girl. He deserved death because he disobeyed you, Your Grace."

Daenerys lifted an eyebrow at the Widower's explanation but did not interrupt him. "Daario Naharis deserved death because he angered our employer and endangered all of our lives and livelihoods by opposing you. I've already put all of his co-conspirators and the men who covered for him castrated and put to death and had you not already executed Naharis then I would have done so myself. As long as you continue to pay us, the Storm Crows will remain loyal and obey all of your laws."

Daenerys nodded that was the most she could expect out of dishonorable sellswords. She didn't need them to be good men or care about her people. They just needed to be loyal to her gold nothing more, and she certainly couldn't expect love to keep them loyal as she had with Daario. Still, actions spoke louder than words and she had yet to see that from the Storm Crows. Although executing Daario's accomplices was a good start at least.

"I would like to know all of the men who covered for Daario's excursions and the frequency of those excursions." She ordered calmly. He needed to prevent proof that he had done as he claimed and wasn't just giving her empty platitudes. She would not be blindsided by this despicable behavior again.

The Widower nodded. "Of course, Your Grace," He proceeded to list off a dozen names of the men that had been executed for helping to hide Daario's excursions. Some of them Daenerys recognized in passing and others she had no clue who they were. A handful of the names he mentioned had participated in some of the rapings alongside Daario Naharis.

"And the frequency? How often did Daario go and rape children? How many women did he fuck to death?" She asked sternly.

The Widower replied ever so dutifully. "Thankfully, there were only six occurrences that we were able to find any evidence of. Four of which occurred while your dragons were chained. He only went back to his habits when the green dragon left, he feared that one too much to act while it was here."

Daenerys's jaw clenched. Six women raped by the man who she had welcomed into her bed, at at least six women defiled by the one who she had knighted and presumed to call honorable. Six women who suffered as she once did because Daenerys refused to trust the judgment of Rhaegal and Ser Barristan. She would not make that mistake again, perhaps it was good to listen to the opinions of others on occasion, even when it came to her personal life. "I want those women found and brought before me, they will be paid a thousand Meereeneese honors for what they endured at the hands of my men."

"I'm afraid that's not possible, Your Grace,"

Daenerys stood from her bench and took a step towards the sellsword. "And why is that? If you are not capable of exacting justice for the crimes of your men than I will find a new sellsword captain who is." She declared with clear passion.

The Widower flushed. "That's not what I meant, Your Grace," He said quickly. "Three of the woman are according to our interrogations of those present died during the rapings of half a dozen men and they wound up fucking a corpse instead of a living person." His nose crinkled in disgust at the thought of fucking a corpse no doubt and Daenerys couldn't help but shudder at the depravity of it all. How had she never noticed that Daario was like that? "The other two women looked rather plain, light skin, dark hair, and dark eyes. There has to be at least a hundred women matching that description. If you would like I can procure two women who meet the qualifications but it's doubtful that they would truly be the ones raped."

Daenerys frowned. A part of her wanted to demand that they would still pay recompense to everyone who was raped by Daario but the pain of Zalla stung fresh. She would bankrupt Meereen even more than it already was if she tried to repay all the no-doubt imposters who would lie and claim they were raped by her men. She could not repay the woman who suffered because of her besides Arya as much as it pained her to let them suffer. She was helpless in this regard.

"Captain Kyrven, I trust that no more of this behavior will persist, if it does all of the Storm Crows will suffer not just the guilty ones. You must stomp this disobedience out."

The Widower nodded. "I understand completely, Your Grace, and vow to do as you command."

Daenerys nodded. "You will not have a place on my council, you will receive your orders from the command of my unsullied, Grey Worm and you are to obey him as if I myself had commanded you. Understood?"

If he had any displeasure at being told to follow a former slave he did not show it. He nodded once more at her words. "Yes, Your Grace. I assure you the Storm Crows will cause you no more troubles.

"See to it then." She said in dismissal and the Widower bowed once more before leaving her presence.

* * *

"You wanted to see me, Your Grace?" Tyrion asked as he entered Daenerys's solar.

She nodded. "Take a seat, Lord Tyrion." He did as bidded and she poured them both a glass of wine.

"The incident with Daario has forced me to realize that I am unaware of many of the traditions, gods, and the culture of the Seven Kingdoms. Ser Barristan tells me that Daario's actions will put me in a negative light in the eyes of the inhabitants of my kingdom. That the crimes will be counted as my own in the eyes of the Westerosi Lords."

"You are the one who 'knows things' so tell me all about the traditions and practices of all of my Kingdoms so I can not make such a colossal blunder of that magnitude again."

Tyrion took a sip of his wine. "The unfortunate incident involving Daario is not actually that big of a blunder. The North holds little esteem for the concept of knighthood and will not care if Daario was knighted when he raped Arya Stark or if he was just under your employ as a sellsword. The decision to knight Daario while perhaps foolish and after his actions towards a noble lady of Westeros would earn you plenty of hate if they knew of it- especially in the Stormlands, and the Vale they do not need to do so. What will do more damage is the decision to bed a sellsword you were not married too and that news will be impossible to contain as those rumors have already spread across the Narrow Sea."

Daenerys's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "How do you plan to keep Daario's actions secret? Or my decision to knight him? People will talk."

Tyrion smiled and looked entirely too smug. "Your decision to knight Daario was done in front of only Jorah, Missandei, Daario, and I. The Storm Crows and your council knew of it, but if you swear your council to silence on the matter and leave the Storm Crows here to protect Meereen when you return to Westeros then it's unlikely that the news gets out. Anyone who does hear a rumor about this knighting of Daario you can dismiss it as Daario being over-presumptuous and giving himself a title he had not earned. More so, the fact that you were the one to knight Daario Naharis before your coronation as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms means that according to the faith of the seven, and their tradition of knighthood, you do not actually have the power to knight anyone as only a King or a knight is able to knight one in the eyes of the seven and you are neither yet… in their eyes at least." He hastily added at her glare.

Daenerys frowned at his explanation. Leaving the Storm Crows here in Meereen made perfect sense and was a decision she should have always planned on making. They would protect the city as long as she gave them gold and unless she planned on burning all of the rest of the Bay of Dragons into ashes before she left, someone had to protect Meereen in her absence. She would feel safer without the sellsword company at her back although losing two-thousand men would make conquering Westeros harder than it already was.

"You said that my bedding a sellsword would incite more disgust than his actions towards Arya, how?"

Tyrion sighed. "Westeros is not like Essos, they are a bit more uh prudish. They will blame you for the actions of Daario to an extent, but this is entirely your own actions and you will and likely already are being lambasted for it." He explained calmly. "Westeros is a bit less progressive on their views of women. Here in Essos, women are either slaves or free. They are sold into marriages yes but their view on them is much more like those of the Dornish. They marry for politics with a paramour on the side. The rest of the Seven Kingdoms are much more strict."

"Marriages are always arranged and a woman who is caught with a man they are not married to will be punished severely. If a noble-born woman lays with a man they are not married to, that man will often be sent to the wall even if the female consents. Your choice of a spouse will be extremely important in how you are perceived, by bedding Daario you will be called the Whore Queen by many of the Westerosi Lords. They will look down on you for bedding a foreigner and one without any honor even."

"I can not undo what I have done with Daario," Daenerys said interrupting him. "I understand that it was a mistake to sleep with Daario but we need to move past this, not focus on the past. If we can not cover up that I was bedding Daario then how should I approach the Lords to get them to accept my mistakes and move past it?"

Tyrion winced at her question and seemed to shrink down into his chair. "You could arrange a marriage for yourself," He said quietly, his voice squeaking at his suggestion.

Daenerys scowled. "Absolutely not," She declared. "I aim to break the wheel, to end arranged marriages and the taking away of women's rights. I aim to end slavery and I will not force anyone into a marriage. I am not a slave." The idea of it was absurd, she was a dragon, not a slave. She should take the dwarfs head for suggesting such a horrid idea even if it was at her prompting.

Tyrion held up his hands defensively. "You asked how you get them to accept that you slept with Daario and how to get them to not call you the 'Whore Queen'. This is how. You would, of course, choose your own partner among the suitable candidates and they would only serve as King Consort. That would show the Lords of Westeros that you are willing to respect their culture and would gain you an army to help take the throne. Stopping the wheel wouldn't break and that's what you would be doing by refusing to play the game. The moment that you showed weakness the wheel would come back in full force and you would be trampled by it. If not you than your successor. You can't win the game by cheating and not playing by the rules. You have to play the game by the rules and you have to win to break the wheel. Let them think that you are allowing the wheel to spin and don't let them realize that the wheel will break until it is already broken. You have to work with the Lords of Westeros to do this."

Daenerys's first instinct was to deny that idea outright but perhaps an arranged marriage was best for her at this point. Her first two husbands had been far from perfect but they had been better than Daario who had been her choice. Her judgment at choosing her partner had proven extremely suspect. She would choose among Tyrion's candidates if she wanted to marry any of them but she would at least consider looking down that avenue. Maybe her stubbornness to be different and not abide by the rules of society was only going to doom her in the end. She had chosen to break the wheel by being with Daario and that had ended in a complete disaster of nightmarish proportions. She had broken the wheel when she took Astapor and Yunkai and those cities were worse off than ever before. Even her breaking the wheel in Meereen had led to their financial ruin. She wouldn't apologize for freeing slaves, she would always do that but perhaps there was a better way to do this. Maybe Tyrion was right and she had to use the wheel to break it. Diplomacy was a necessity, as was compromise apparently. "Who are these suitable candidates? I will consider this option if I find any of them acceptable."

Tyrion beamed slightly at her not rebuking his controversial idea. "The most obvious candidate would be your own nephew, Prince Jon if he somehow manages to survive long enough. He'd likely get the North to rally behind you and if Rhaegal is to be believed, he is trustworthy. From what I've seen of him, he's a good man who will respect your authority. Of course, it's possible that he bends the knee without marriage due to your familial connection, and in that case, you would be better off choosing someone else that you need the marriage offer and the position of King Consort to entice to fight for you."

Daenerys nodded. Jon would be a fine choice if he manages to survive long enough to actually marry her. He was good, she knew that from Arya's tales as well as those from Tyrion and Theon even. He was her family and they did belong together in some capacity as all Targaryens do. The only issue was it would mean that the Targaryen line would end with her, unless her nephew sired some bastards for them both which from what she knew of Arya's tales about her brother's sense of honor was extremely unlikely. Still, she could force him to do so. "Go on," She prompted Tyrion.

Tyrion frowned and took a long drink. "The rest of the Kingdoms are a bit more complicated to find the perfect suitor for. Trystane Martell just married Myrcella Baratheon so it's unlikely Dorne would break that alliance to form one with you, in spite of your shared kin, especially if you plan on allying with your nephew; the son of the Northern whore. Not impossible, since you would be able to offer Quentyn Martell the position of King Consort whereas Myrcella is just a backup for if Tommen were to die, but it's not an easy path forward, or one free of strife. The same is true to an even greater extent of the Tyrells in the reach with Margaery Tyrell married to the King. Perhaps the Tarly boy could be persuaded but that would only get you a portion of the Reach's forces and you could probably get the same might by offering to make the Tarlys the Lords of Highgarden if they back your claim. The same would hold true for the Daynes, Blackwoods, Royces, and Cafferton's. Marriage won't gain you any more men then offering them a spot as Lord Paramount."

"The Westerlands are held by my brother now so that's out for obvious reasons. The Stormlands and Crownlands are also held by Tommen, so again not a practical option. The Iron Islands we already have as much of them as we'll get and the Freys hold the majority of the Riverlands now but with how universally hated they are in Westeros right now, it would be incredibly foolish to marry one and would turn all of Westeros, most notably including your nephew against you. The Vale might be the next best choice but Lord Robyn was still drinking milk from his mother's tit when I last saw him three years ago, he's extremely frail and weak-willed. Littlefinger is his regent for the time being but there's no one in all the Seven Kingdoms who I trust less, so I'd advise looking elsewhere. Ramsay Bolton might be a candidate in theory if he wins his war but considering his cruelty that Varys and Theon have testified of that would not be wise. Prince Jon might be your only real option. Perhaps a Baratheon bastard, if you can find one, once legitimized would win you the Stormlands. I'll look into more on other more minority candidates but our options are extremely limited right now. If I am honest this is far from the ideal time for a conquest, Westeros is mostly united under Tommen's banner right now."

"I will take what you said into consideration," Daenerys replied after a moment of pause. Her nephew was her first choice anyways if she did choose to go down that route. If he survived, of course. "Now Lord Tyrion tell me about all of the quirks and culture of the Seven Kingdoms and what I will need to do to assimilate myself with them." She ordered.

Tyrion set his now empty wineglass back on the table. "There are Seven Kingdoms, Your Grace, all of them have their own cultures. Which would you like to hear about first?"

Daenerys didn't need to think it over, there was only one that was currently relevant to her and one she knew some about from her conversations with Arya. "The North."

* * *

"So Jon-" Arya snorted, giggling at the story she had been retelling. "So Jon lied and told my mother that he hadn't seen me. My mother looked around the room, not believing him and didn't find me so she left to go check the stables."

"Where were you hiding?" Missandei asked curiously.

She had already told them that she was in the room after fleeing from her rude sister and her callous insults. How she had put Arya down for a laugh. Arya had come to Jon in tears and her mother had only wanted to drag her back to her sowing lessons, not worried about her feelings but just the etiquette. "I was hiding right beyond Jon the entire time, perfectly still and every time my mother moved, Jon would shift his position so he obstructed her view again."

Daenerys smiled and let out a light laugh. It was a sweet story with no deeper meaning or hidden morals, just a tale of a real sibling bond between her nephew and Arya. A nephew that was caring for those hurt but not a complete pushover. He didn't hide Arya when she bailed on her lessons because she didn't want to attend but he did when she had a legitimate gripe and had worked with her on her archery when she was forbidden from it by her mother because she was a girl. She was supposed to be a Lady of some castle, forcibly married off to some Lord and to stay at home and knit. To be a trophy wife.

Jon despite his humble upbringing and bastard status, or perhaps because of it he seemed to know what was right and wrong in the world. He seemed to understand that the wheel needed to be broken. He didn't appear to be mad like her father had been, nor was he like Viserys. Everything she heard had indicated that he would be like his father Rhaegar, not her other family members. He almost sounded like Rhaegal with how he would risk himself to protect the innocent, he had literally died to save lives and he had a heart for the weak and powerless. He cared about the happiness of those he cared about even more than his own well being.

Arya was quickly becoming a confidant she enjoyed spending time with. Most of their conversations were still centered around Jon but she didn't only speak with Arya to hear about him anymore. The stories were becoming less about getting to know her nephew and more conversing with her friend. She wondered if their relationship would remain intact when they learned of Jon's almost certain death after he had foolishly tried to proclaim himself a King to the entire North.

A part of Daenerys was upset that he had done that, she was Queen. He was just a prince. Yet, he didn't know her, he didn't know that she was good. He thought that the only choices were Tommen Baratheon or him. He didn't know that she had dragons and wanted him on her side. He would have bent the knee as Rhaegal claimed if he only lived long enough to do so. He was probably dead by now, they were just waiting for the news to arrive.

There was a knock on the door. "Your Grace," Ser Barristan called from outside. "Varys claims he has urgent news from Westeros and is requesting that you call an emergency council meeting."

Daenerys closed her eyes and sighed. Speak of the pale mare and it'll manifest.

"Is it about Jon?" Arya asked quietly of Daenerys, grabbing at her hand.

Daenerys frowned. "Probably. Let us find out." She spoke louder now so Ser Barristan could hear. "I'll call the meeting. Only invite those who will be returning with me to Westeros are invited. None of the sellswords or Meereenese council." She paused and then added another thing. "Don't invite the Greyjoys either." She didn't want Theon Turncloak as Arya called him to be with her when she learned of her nephew- Jon's death. Again, perhaps he would come back again. That meant that Yara couldn't be there either since she would tell Turncloak and Daenerys wasn't a fool enough to blindly trust her in such an emotional state.

"I will do as you have asked, Your Grace" Ser Barristan vowed.

Daenerys rose from her armchair and Missandei did the same. She gestured for Arya to rise as well.

"I'm not on your council," Arya protested, an empty protest that she used to try to hide her happiness at being allowed to hear the news of Jon first hand. She had refused to believe that Jon was going to die, too afraid of losing her favorite sibling once again. She thought that Jon could win, he always had- Arya had claimed.

Daenerys knew that Arya would be even more crushed than she was by Jon's death. She would be cruel to make Arya wait in order to hear the news second hand. "He's your brother. You should be there to hear the report of his battle first hand. If the news pertains to something else then I'll dismiss you from the session."

But really what else would spark a council meeting so urgent? The death of the mother of the false King, Cersei of House Lannister hadn't been noteworthy enough. The only time Varys had considered anything so urgent was when he had found out that Jon was Prince in the first place. Everything else, he had thought could wait until the next scheduled meeting.

The three of them headed towards the solar, in silence. All of them for their own reasons. They took their seats and watched in silence as the rest of them arrived, Varys was the final one to show up.

"Why have you called this meeting, Lord Varys?" Daenerys asked with trepidation and some fear.

"I have news from the North, Your Grace." He responded with some eager glee. Was he happy that her nephew was dead? Why would he be? Did she dare hope that he had won? "Prince Jon has defeated both the Lannister and Bolton armies with the rest of the Northern men bending the knee to him."

Daenerys could hardly believe it. She knew that he was Targaryen and they always did the impossible but this wasn't one man doing the impossible but apparently an entire army. Was Varys truly correct? Could she still have a family? Could her house live on beyond her? She glanced over at Arya who looked entirely too smug and mouthed I told you so at her. Daenerys smiled, her nephew was alive and soon they would be together. She hoped so at least.

"How!?" Tyrion demanded in disbelief. "How could an army of a mere two-thousand men defeat one that you told us was eight-thousand men. I know that Prince Jon is a good military commander but that is beyond reasonable."

Ser Barristan nodded. "Clearly we and likely his enemies as well underestimated the Wildlings battle prowess. Perhaps they used some previously unforeseen wildling tactic to win the battle."

Varys tutted. "Prince Jon did not use his Wildlings or even his northern men in the battle." He looked towards Daenerys. "He had a dragon."

"Rhaegal," Daenerys whispered to herself quietly. That was why he had left, he had abandoned her in favor of her nephew. He had betrayed her for her nephew after assuring her that he wouldn't do that. She had thought that Rhaegal was the only person she could trust to stay by her side. She should have known that he was planning to usurp her with her nephew the entire time. He had sworn to her that her nephew would bend the knee so she would acknowledge him and allow him to live.

No, she couldn't allow herself to doubt Rhaegal. He had saved her life multiple times now, he had enforced order in her city even before they knew her nephew existed. He had spent so much time by her side, comforting her. He had even revealed Goatherd's lie for what it was and brought her wayward sons home before leaving.

"Where on earth did Prince Jon get a dragon," Tyrion asked rhetorically, not really expecting an answer.

"My source says that Prince Jon claims Queen Daenerys sent it to him," Varys said after only a moment of pause.

"Rhaegal went to Prince Jon on my orders, to protect him and destroy our enemies," Daenerys said half-honestly, confirming what her nephew had said. She had confessed to Rhaegal that she wished she could do something to help Jon, he clearly had taken the initiative she had lacked. Perhaps Prince Jon was his rider but he was still her dragon first, he wouldn't betray her for her nephew.

Varys shook his head, somehow knowing that she was not being entirely honest. "There is no easy way to say this, Your Grace, but Prince Jon declared himself the King of the Seven Kingdoms. He burnt the Boltons alive and decimated their army before making them all bend the knee and swear fealty to Houses Stark and Targaryen to retain their lives. They proclaimed him as the King in the North."

"So he our enemy? Greyworm asked. "He try to steal my Queen's throne. We destroy him."

"Jon wouldn't do that," Arya protested. "When he hears of how good Daenerys is, and that she saved me, he'll step aside and bend the knee."

Daenerys did her best to retain control of the situation. Rhaegal would never side with this Prince against her. He would learn the hard way if he tried to stand against her. He might have a Kingdom now but she was still the one with three dragons. She didn't want to kill her only relative and be branded a kinslayer but she would force him to return to the wall if need be, even if it might break her heart.

"He is a King, he will be my King Consort." Another half-truth. She had considered him as a possible choice; the only choice even according to Tyrion. She would even name him as her hand as well if that's what was required. Regardless, of how he might have won his battle, this was the logical outcome. He would accept the position of power she was offering him, even if it was still beneath her or he would refuse- fight her and be sent to the wall when her dragons decimated his army.

"And Jamie?" Tyrion asked quietly. "What did Prince Jon do with him? Is he…"

Varys shook his head. "He surrendered. King Jon took him a captive after the battle. The Lannister army was largely unaffected by the King's attack. Rhaegal specifically targeted Lord Bolton and his son. He's kept Lord Jamie as a hostage and is sending the entirety of the Westerlands army to the wall."

That would take some getting used to. Hearing someone being called a King to her face. She had refused to acknowledge the usurper as a King but she had no choice but to call her nephew a King. She had needed to retain control of things, she needed to know Rhaegal hadn't betrayed her. She would make him King Consort, which had to be what he had meant by calling himself, King. He just didn't mention her because the Northern Lords had a grudge against their family and his Stark side appealed to them more, that had to be his reasoning. He'd reveal her true position and his beneath her after he had their fealty. Rhaegal wouldn't have stayed with him if he had any other intent.

"Your Grace, I have a rather preposterous theory but I ask that you hear me out," Tyrion spoke up, abruptly changing the subject from the Kingslayer brother of his.

"Go on," She conceded.

"I've been reading up on Northern mythology as you've asked in search of a method to defeat the Others. I've found very little in that pursuit but there is one myth that I think might have some relevance." He refilled his wine before continuing.

"There is a tale told in the North of men who could slip into the skin of beasts. Wear their skin as their own and control the animal as if they were them. The Mormonts became bears, the Hornwords were moose, and the Starks became dire wolves in legend. They said that they were bonded in both soul and mind. Whichever one died first, their spirit would join the other in their body."

Tyrion took a long drink of his wine. "I'm not usually one to believe in myths or magic but perhaps I should be. The Red Priestesses saw Prince Jon's resurrection in their flames and another one brought him back from the dead. The Others are apparently real and mobilizing beyond the wall. Dragons have returned to the World and both our Queen and Prince Jon are unharmed by the flames. Why should wargs be the exception?"

"Prince Jon had tamed a direwolf as had the rest of the Stark children, just as the wargs did in legend. I made the young Prince mad on our journey to the wall when I revealed the kind of men that were there to him and his wolf somehow knew that he was upset and came out of nowhere to attack me- as if connected to his emotions like wargs were. The Starks have their direwolves, and the Targaryens have their dragons. I believe that Prince Jon is a warg of a dragon, Rhaegal to be precise."

"A dragon is not a slave!" Daenerys spat back, offended by the suggestion. Rhaegal wasn't being controlled by Jon. He was a dragon, not a slave. The idea of her nephew being her favorite dragon was impossible. He was her dragon, not a puppet, Jon had no say in her governing of Meereen. That was Rhaegal whose human-like intelligence had been her advisor, not Jon. "Rhaegal is not one to be controlled by the whims of any mortal man."

"That's not how wargs work," Arya spoke up. All eyes turned towards her. "They aren't a myth, at least I don't think so anyway. I used to dream I was my direwolf, I would see through her eyes and share thoughts. When Joffrey had his sword on my friend, she knew I wanted him to stop and attacked him as if drawn by my distress."

Tyrion smirked. "Aha!" He proclaimed triumphantly. "Your Grace, Rhaegal escaped from his cage and started acting differently, as if captivity had changed him. When you returned he hunted the Harpies, knowing who to target. Then he started acting more like a dragon during the day. He knew that Prince Jon was who he claimed to be and that the Others were real. He attacked Theon Greyjoy, surely you don't think it's a coincidence that he was so connected to Prince Jon? We've all remarked on his human intelligence on multiple occasions. I'm sure Varys could corroborate the timelines, that Prince Jon's spontaneous death and resurrection line up perfectly with the changes wrought in Rhaegal."

Varys chuckled. "I can do more than that, I can confirm with absolute certainty that King Jon is indeed a warg of Rhaegal. I confronted Rhaegal one morning, called him Prince Jon and he flinched at the form of address. I gave him intel about the Whitehills plan to betray him and he acted on it, executing the current Lord and denying them axis to his keep. I wanted to tell you, Your Grace, but I didn't want to risk the news getting out and causing both the King and Rhaegal's death. I planned on telling you, in private, after this meeting."

Daenerys closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "This session is dismissed. Leave me." She said quietly.

No one stirred at her order. "I said get out!" She shrieked as the anger she felt towards her bastard nephew enslaving Rhaegal bled through. This time they all quickly fled with Ser Barristan being the last one to leave.

Daenerys was a fool. Why had she expected that her bastard nephew would be any different than all the previous Targaryen bastards? Why had she ever believed that there could be a bastard with a heart of gold? The seven were right, bastard truly were evil abominations. The Blackfyre rebellions made it clear that he was not to be trusted but she had allowed herself to trust Rhaegal's judgment. Rhaegal had been the puppet of her bastard nephew the entire time.

A slave, she called herself the breaker of chains yet here she was with her own child enslaved. Her nephews was making a mockery of her and her titles. The breaker of the chains was a lie, the unburnt was one he also shared with her. He claimed himself as King of Westeros, another one of her titles that he stole from her. He would take everything from her, if he could steal Rhaegal why wouldn't he steal her other children as well? Why wouldn't he use her dragons to steal Meereen from her even?

She had been a fool to believe him like Rhaegar and her. He was clearly her father's child; as mad as any Targaryen that had come before him. His madness only outmatched by his cruelty and lack of care for her children. He was exactly like Viseerys, they were only just a means to get him her throne, nothing more.

She had trusted Rhaegal's judgment in everything. He had told her that her nephew would bend the knee and she had listened to him. He had told her that the Others were real and she believed him. He had told her to kill Theon Turncloak and she had listened to him even if not exactly how he might have wanted. Rhaegal had just been a puppet to her nephew, controlling his actions and bending him to his will. She had even been his puppet herself.

She would have to free Rhaegal but she was clueless as to how. If Tyrion was correct and the bastard's spirit had joined Rhaegal in death than how could she free her dragon? How did she force him out of Rhaegal's mind? How did she stop him from stealing more dragons from her? She wouldn't kill Rhaegal to get rid of the bastard's presence but she wouldn't let her nephew stick around after he was killed in the form of her dragon.

There was a scuffling noise in the corner and Daenerys's head immediately perked up, her queenly facade back in place. Standing in that corner was Arya, the cousin of her bastard nephew and one of the many who had tried to convince her that the bastard was to be trusted.

The one who Daario had claimed was trying to set him up for raping her. The one who claimed that she hadn't seen the bastard in three years and had coincidentally shown up on her doorstep right after Rhaegal had left. The bastard as Rhaegal had attacked Daario to set up the situation with Arya where she would believe that Daario was guilty of the accusations she leveled against him. How many of her decisions had just been the bastard exercising his will through her? She would have to reverse much of what she had done in the last few months to remove the bastards taint from her Kingdom.

"I told you to leave," Daenerys said sternly as she glared at Arya.

"You did," Arya acknowledged. "I left as you ordered but you didn't say not to come back so here I am."

Daenerys couldn't stop her lips from twitching slightly at that remark but she quickly squashed it down. "I'm not in the mood for these games right now, Lady Stark. Leave now or I will have you forcibly removed from my sight and tossed in a cell."

"You're being quite stupid, Daenerys," Arya said as blunt as ever. She took a few steps closer to her from the corner she was in.

"I'm being stupid? The only stupid thing I've done was trust you. Was Daario right? Tell me, Lady Stark, did my nephew fake your rape in order to make me kill my sellsword captain?" She asked quietly.

Arya flinched back as if slapped and Daenerys couldn't help but feel more than slightly guilty about using that against her. Of course, she hadn't intentionally arranged her own rape, no woman would ever do that. Her nephew might have no problem enslaving her dragon and even if he was cruel enough to let someone do that to his sister; there is no way Arya would have consented.

"Yes, you're being stupid, Daenerys. If Jon is Rhaegal as they claim then this is nothing but a good thing." Arya declared, undeterred by Daenerys's hostility.

"How is it a good thing that my nephew has enslaved my dragon? How is it a good thing that he wants to steal my throne, to take everything from me?" She demanded angrily.

Arya took a seat at the table, a few chairs down. "If Jon had truly enslaved Rhaegal and was using you to steal your throne then he would have killed you already. If he only saw you as a threat to eliminate then he would have attacked you as Rhaegal long ago."

"Rhaegal wouldn't let him." Daenerys snapped out.

Arya smirked at her. "Then he clearly isn't a slave to Jon, is he. Clearly, Rhaegal still retains at least partial control over their actions or Jon isn't out to steal everything from you."

What was Daenerys to say to that? That Rhaegal could only stop him from that one thing? That Rhaegal only cared about her life and not her happiness? Was she supposed to go back to naively believing that her nephew- that Jon was good? Did she assume that Varys and Tyrion were wrong and Jon wasn't Rhaegal?

Arya sighed. "I've never met Rhaegal but surely you can look at his actions and see reason- see that Jon doesn't mean you any harm. You said Rhaegal hunted down criminals in your streets, that he saved your life. You told me that he showed you the innocence of Drogon when you accused him of killing a small girl. If Jon was the selfish and manipulative bastard that you seem to think he is, then why would he do any of those things? If he didn't care about you then why wouldn't he have called Rhaegal to him the moment he had awoken, why would he wait until the last moment to call his dragon?"

Daenerys hated how much sense Arya was making. It was so much easier to believe that Jon was evil and had enslaved Rhaegal, than to accept that Rhaegal had betrayed her. That he had willingly sided with her nephew and had lied about who he was to her.

"He clearly cares about you, as much as I've ever seen him care about anyone. He attacked Daario because he was jealous of his place in your bed. He waited to summon Rhaegal because he didn't want to leave you alone. He made sure the other dragons returned before he left because he wanted you to be safe. He wouldn't have spent hours talking to you each day if he didn't. Jon never spends hours talking to anyone, even me."

Daenerys agreed with Arya in a way but she couldn't accept it. He had still betrayed her. "If he cared so much then why didn't he say anything? Why not tell me who he was instead of lying about it?"

Arya snorted and Daenerys glared at her. "How would he have told you? As far as I'm aware, dragons can't speak in any language you could understand. What else was he to do? Write it down? He's a dragon whose claws are as thick as your arm, if he even could control them well enough, writing it down would take an absurd amount of space and wouldn't be easily undone so others would see it. Jon clearly does not want everyone to know he is Rhaegal. He wouldn't send a letter explaining things either since that could far too easily be intercepted. The North is a long journey away from Meereen."

"He promised me he would bend the knee," Daenerys protested half-heartedly. She understood just fine that she was being unreasonable by trying to stay mad at Jon- Rhaegal whichever one he was- both maybe but she needed to cling to that. She wanted to be angry with him, it would stop her from choosing her family over what the world needed. She had to break the wheel and that meant not bending the knee to him. He couldn't be King and if he tried to make himself one then she would be forced to destroy him.

"And he will," Arya replied with absolute certainty.

"How can you know that?" Daenerys asked voicing her fears aloud. "He's proclaimed himself as King of the Seven Kingdoms. Of my Kingdoms. That does not sound like a man willing to kneel."

Arya smiled. "Maybe a year before he was sent to the wall and had to take the black; Jon and I shared our deepest and most terrible desires with each other. We never planned on acting on them, they were just dreams that we imagined could be possible one day. Mine was to run away from all my responsibility, abandon my family and explore the world as a badass warrior who discovered something new, that changed the world."

Daenerys smiled at that. "And Jon?"

Arya sighed. "Jon's deepest and most terrible want was not to be King, or even the Lord of Winterfell. His dream was to be one Robb's bannermen; to hold a small keep of his own and for his siblings to respect him- for Sansa and my mother to not hate him for even existing. He wanted respect and to be seen as more than just a bastard, that was all. He never dreamed of claiming power; he didn't want power. He was ashamed to even want that little thing, he was a bastard, he had no right to any lands or titles. Jon wants family more than anything else. Even when Sansa was cruel to him, he still cared for her and was kind to her because they shared the blood of the Starks. You're not a Stark but you're still his family- our family. He cares for you far too much to try to take something so important to you away. That's not who he is."

"Then why proclaim himself as King if he has no desire for power and only wants family?" Daenerys wondered aloud.

Arya shrugged. "He wants to do what he can to help you, if proclaiming himself as King gets the North to kneel to you than he would do it. Seemingly, it has. He obviously does want to be your King Consort, and he can give you the North by doing so. Perhaps if he thought you were just the Mad King's daughter and had never met you he would want your throne but that's not the case. If he is Rhaegal, then he knows that you are a good Queen and will gladly step aside."

"What if you're wrong? What if he's changed since you've last seen him? What if he does plan to usurp me? What if he wants to steal my throne and has just been using me? If I trust that these are his intentions and they are not then I could lose my kingdom. I have to assume he has the wrong intentions." Daenerys declared resolutely.

"I'm not wrong," Arya said with a grin. "Besides, even if I was wrong you have all the leverage here. He very clearly does not want you dead, in fact, he clearly wants you as his wife in all likelihood. Even if Jon was controlling Rhaegal and could make him fight you, Jon wouldn't cause a second dance of the dragons just to be King. He's not that selfish. If I'm somehow wrong about all of that, then you have me as a hostage to leverage against him. He'll kneel, likely by choice, and if needed by force; that outcome is inevitable.

"Why would you side with me instead of your brother?" Daenerys asked suspiciously.

"I'm not. I'm siding with both of you, it'll never come to the point where you need to leverage me because Jon isn't like that. He cares too much for you to fight you and is too selfless to not do whatever stops a war. If he has changed into some power-hungry monster who doesn't care about innocents than I would choose you over him. Just like if the reverse happened, I would choose him over you. That's purely hypothetical since neither of you are like that, nor will you ever be that way. He gave you credit for Rhaegal coming to aid him in the battle. If he planned to usurp you, he wouldn't publicly make himself indebted to you. He did that because he wants the North to know that you're a good Queen, unlike your father. He cares about you."

Daenerys sighed perhaps she was reading too much into all of this, perhaps he truly did only have the best of intentions. He had named himself as her King Consort without her consent, trying to take away her choice but that was forgivable. He had only meant the best she knew now. Tyrion had made it abundantly clear to her that the North would have an easier time rallying behind Jon than her and had even suggested a match with Jon to gain her the North. Had he survived she would have likely married her nephew anyway, it would have been her decision to do so. He had been over-presumptive and made the decision for her but it wasn't a decision she didn't want.

He had already bent the knee to her as Rhaegal hadn't he? He had told her that her nephew would kneel and if he was her nephew then that meant that Jon had knelt right? He would have to do it publicly to makes it clear to all of his people that she was Queen and he was just King Consort but it would be done. Rhaegal had promised her that and she didn't think Rhaegal had ever lied to her.

Arya was right about how illogical his behavior would have been if the plan was always to usurp her or if Rhaegal was truly a slave as she had originally feared. Arya was right about Jon caring about her, that much was abundantly clear to her. He had from their first meeting, saved her life from the Dothraki. He had burned the horse for her, he had taken her to get cleaned up, and hunted down a rabbit for her, even nicely cooking it to a standard she might have had from a low-quality human cooked meal.

How many times had she thought Rhaegal was human-like and been happy for it? How many times had she wished that he could talk back to her? Apparently he could, if Arya was correct then he was both Rhaegal and Jon. She had a nephew who was her dragon and her soon to be husband. As Arya said this didn't have to be a bad thing. This was good news, it meant that her nephew was who he claimed to be, that he loved her, and that she liked everything she had ever heard from him. He wasn't making her give up on breaking the wheel, he would do it with her as Rhaegal had claimed.

She would be marrying Rhaegal, the thought sounded completely absurd. She chuckled. Had she not told Rhaegal only a few months prior that he couldn't be her mate because he wasn't a human? Apparently, the joke was on her the entire time and he was one.

He had only attacked Daario because he was jealous and wanted her for himself. Not because he knew what Daario was like, or what he would do to Arya. He was just jealous and she had been right to treat it as just jealousy and nothing more. That was a relief, she was not the only one responsible for Arya's attack. Rhaegal had not known what he would do either or else he would have killed him regardless of her wishes. Jon probably wouldn't blame her for Daaario's actions- hopefully.

Her nephew was not her enemy but her greatest ally who had already secured a Kingdom for her. He had given her credit for his actions, Arya was right, that made no sense if he didn't plan on bending the knee. She hadn't lost her dragon or been betrayed by her nephew. She had just become closer to them both and gained a husband who actually cared about her and not the power she gave them or her womb like the other two had. Even Daario had only cared about her body but Rhaegal had seen her at her worst and stuck with her. Jon had protected her- even first met her when she was hideous and caked in dirt. He was different than the others.

He like her knew what was wrong in the world and she would name him her hand and King Consort, he had already done more for her rule than any of her advisors. He could be trusted, he had to be after how much he had seen of her and learned from her. Arya was right if he was planning a move against her than he would have already killed her. He had to be loyal, just like Rhaegal was because in a way he was Rhaegal.

"Tell me, Arya, is my husband to be comely at least?" She asked with a mischievous grin.

Arya laughed in response, clearly pleased with her decision to accept Jon as her King Consort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Widower doesn't have a cannon name in spite of being Daario's second in command but I can't see Daenerys ever referring to anyone by such a moniker verbally so I made something up.
> 
> The thing with Daario was a wakeup call to his ignorance of Westerosi culture, and how she needs to be prepared for compromising with the Lords just like she had to in some ways with the Harpies. Ultimately, the decision to knight him is whatever due to how it's not at all notable news but it does put her in the position where she realizes that she can't break the wheel for the sake of breaking it but she has to be methodical and compromise.
> 
> The most obvious way is to marry for political reasons, and while after being forced into two sub-optimal marriages that's not something she wants to experience again, she's scarred by her chosen partner supposedly being evil. Tyrion notices that and takes advantage of it to maneuver her in the way that makes success the most likely.
> 
> Who are good candidates for her to marry? There really are none right now. The next best option after Jon is Quentyn Martell but they're also tied to the Lannisters right now through Myrcella and while they might switch sides it's not a guarantee. Most of the non Lord Paramount families could be persuaded simply by offering to make them Lord Paramount. Robin Arryn might actually be the best choice but a kid with his mental health and just physical health issues is probably going to make a terrible King, even if only in name. If Robin were to die than Harold Hardying would be a great option but that's a pretty big if. The best option is probably actually Gendry/Edric to get the Baratheon loyalists to fight for a Baratheon by blood to sit on the throne as King Consort, but even then is it better than having a Baratheon by name on the throne for ages to come? Jon is both the most logical choice from a tactical and personal standpoint. Tommen has accidentally united most of Westeros after Cersei's death, and it makes a conquest difficult.
> 
> The Culture Lessons with Tyrion will go on behind the scenes for a while but I only actually have plans to show one more session. They are important background she needs to be aware of before she journeys to Westeros but hearing is different from experience with the cultures as she'll later realize.
> 
> Varys tells of Rhaegal's appearance at the battle, and Daenerys desperate to retain control reaches out and claims she sent him, and that Jon will be King Consort because she doesn't want Rhaegal to have betrayed her and Jon to be a usurping bastard. Then Tyrion reveals his suspicions of Jon being a warg which Varys confirms to her horror.
> 
> Obviously she reacts horribly to that revelation at first believing Rhaegal is enslaved in spite of Arya vouching otherwise. Her whole motto has been a dragon is not a slave and believing that to be false shakes her. She lashes out at everyone but Arya talks her down by pointing out how illogical Jon's behavior is if he is a usurper. I probably should have had her stay mad at him and consider him an enemy for longer than a few thousand words but quite frankly we're already 200K words into this and they haven't even met in person. I don't feel the need to needlessly draw this out when it can be resolved immediately.
> 
> I do feel the need to clarify before the simp Jon comments come flooding in, Daenerys is agreeing to make him King Consort. That does not mean that Jon will be content with only being King Consort that is just all she is willing to offer him right now. 
> 
> Also I haven't forgotten about Jorah, Meereen is just a long way from Last Hearth and it's a long boat ride. He'll return in the next Daenerys chapter. 
> 
> Next chapter should once again be up on Friday and it'll be from Jon's POV as he breaks the siege of Riverrun. Depending on how much I get done this week it'll either be a really super long one or it will be around the length of this one if I decide to split it.


	26. Jon IX/Edmure I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon breaks the siege on Riverrun and meets with all the Lords of the North.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if this is alerting you again. There is no new chapter, I just fixed it so Brynden is Edmure's uncle and not brother. Not sure what I was thinking while writing this.

There was something different about being on Rhaegal's back then from seeing through his eyes as they flew. As a dragon he was biologically enhanced to see just fine through the thin air and have the wind brush off against his scales, even flying at high velocities.

As a human it was different, they couldn't fly at the same speeds or else Jon would be lost to the wind. He had flown slower with Daenerys on his back not wanting to endanger her, and just enjoying her company but he hadn't thought he would have to do the same on his own. The wind beat brutally against his face and Jon had to squint to see at all. His air whipped back and forth into his face and obscured his vision even more, in the future he would have to remember to tie it back before seating himself on Rhaegals back.

Seeing Rhaegal in person and being on Rhaegal's back felt so right. He was Rhaegal and well apart they had been together but actually being together was something different. He could reach out to Rhaegal's mind and caress it just as he could stroke his scales right now. They belonged like this- together.

There was something so empowering about being seated on Rhaegal's back that made him feel like more of a King than he had ever before. When the Free Folk had bowed both when he walked out of the pyre and when they agreed to fight for him; he had not felt this powerful. Even standing atop the walls of the Last Hearth and watching as he made thousands kneel when he ravaged the Boltons as Rhaegal had not felt this empowering.

The power he wielded while on Rhaegal's back was intoxicating. The world was so small beneath him when he looked with his weak human eyes. All it would take to see the world burn was one thought to Rhaegal and the fire would rise up.

Te temptation was there it would be so horrible but so beautiful. He didn't want to see all the innocents die of course, but the flames were beautiful and there was some temptation to let the world burn, and see the flames wreak havoc on the world below. He wouldn't do such a thing, there were better targets at the very least than innocents and he could hardly go around burning everything if he wanted people to see him as more than the Mad King's grandson.

"Soon," Jon whispered to himself. They were on their way to Riverrun now, to gain him his second Kingdom. He would break the Frey's army and return Riverrun to Edmure Tully who was a hostage of the Freys presuming nothing had changed in exchange for their fealty and support. If something had changed then he would negotiate with the Blackfish but that would most likely be considerably more difficult. In a perfect world, he would have Sansa by his side here as their kin but he needed her in the Vale more.

He knew what he was asking of her was cruel and manipulative; she'd likely hate him for being insensitive enough to send her back to Littlefinger but he had to do what was best for his Kingdom. She had told him what Baelish wanted most in the world and by helping Jon claim the throne, he could hypothetically have it. Sure he had _technically_ given her the choice on how to get him the Vale but he knew that she would likely choose the option that assured the Vale siding with him and didn't risk her own life for her part in the murder of Lysa Arryn. Even if that meant doing what she hated the most, and saddling up to Lord Baelish again.

It was odd to be working with someone who he knew was actively plotting his and his Daenerys's assassination but that's what it took to get the twenty-five-thousand swords that the Vale could give him. For the time being, their interests were mutually aligned, and until he claimed the throne; Baelish would be stupid to try anything against him. Their army wouldn't band together behind Sansa like they did him and they would lose the dragons that guaranteed their victory.

He truly hated politics. How had his Daenerys spent a year governing Meereen? He was already sick of it and he had only been doing this for a few months already. He wanted to help people but the games that he had to play were awful and disgusting. All he did these days seemed to be working with people who would conspire to take his place and use him for their own gain. He knew the Umbers had planned to turn his brother over to the Boltons yet he had to praise them for keeping him safe. Lord Baelish would be plotting his murder but he had to thank him for coming to his aid. All of the Northern Lords had considered him useless and lower than dirt when he was just Ned Stark's bastard but now that he was a King, they treated him with the utmost respect and would lick his boots if he asked.

He missed the days when he saw the world in black and white, honorable, and scum. He missed when people were honest with him because he was worth so little, he missed when he could be honest with people. All he did these days was manipulate people, play with their emotions, and use them for his own gain. He knew that he and his Daenerys needed to sit the Iron Throne for them to survive the Winter and he didn't deny that he wanted to be King but he missed when things were so simple. Even Sam he had manipulated, his sister he had never been honest with, Daenerys he hadn't told who he was to, and Davos he had used to hide his heritage. The closest thing he had to someone he could be honest with was Tormund but even then he still had to hide things. He knew he needed to see the world in shades of grey and break bread with his enemies or else he would wind up like his brother and uncle had, dead because they weren't able to play the game by the already established rules.

He had sent Tormund to the wall anyway, so it would be a while until he saw him again. He had given him the task of escorting all of the Lannister prisoners there in order to take the black. He would be gone for at least a few months as they had to move slowly and in multiple cycles, as the soldiers had to be carried in carts to and fro so they didn't have a chance to escape. The Lannisters were almost as numerous as his free folk so they had to make multiple trips to and fro the wall.

He had left Lyanna Mormont in charge of things back at Last Hearth. Ideally, he would have been able to stay and oversee the aftermath of the battle but he needed to strike before the Freys knew he had a dragon and could prepare accordingly. Like with the Lannisters, surprise was his biggest advantage as all their siege towers that could theoretically harm Rhaegal would be facing towards the castle they meant to take and not from behind them where Jon planned to strike from.

Perhaps he could have delayed Sansa's trip to the Vale but he trusted Lyanna Mormont just as much as he trusted her, more so even, she had antagonized him while he was holding the Last Hearth in waiting for Rhaegal's arrival but she hadn't tried to undermine him like Sansa had done, even if she had been better since. Lyanna had argued but not disobeyed. She might not agree with his decision to hold Jamie Lannister as a hostage instead of executing him but she would not disobey his command.

From a political standpoint, it was probably better to leave the Smalljon in charge since everyone believed that he had kept Rickon safe with only the purest of intentions; not to mention that the Last Hearth was his holdfast, one that the Mormonts had no claim to. Jon didn't care, he wouldn't trust the Umbers with Rickon ever again. He had left Osha there to be his keeper but Lyanna did have the ultimate authority, for the time being.

There was also the added benefit that giving Lyanna such an honored position even if only short term, would appeal to Daenerys. He knew that she held some fondness towards Jorah Mormant for some reason he didn't quite understand, he knew that it went beyond the simple he saved her life explanation too. He had betrayed her to Robert Baratheon, how could she forgive him? Lyanna was her kin and he hoped that same fondness would apply. Lyanna was also a women and would show that he was serious about wanting to break the wheel with her. He had named Lyanna because he found her character well suited for the role, in spite of her young age but there were other benefits to be found in the arrangement.

Jon would get the first domino in the Riverlands today, Sansa the largest piece of the Vale and they would hopefully both have returned to Winterfell in three weeks' time to meet with the Lords of the North and he would gain the loyalty of those who hadn't been at the Last Hearth. The Reach, and the Westerlands would still likely outmatch his numbers but they didn't have dragons. Once Daenerys returned to Westeros with the unsullied and the Iron Fleet the numbers would shift in their favor.

He, of course, had to worry about the Stormlands ignoring the obvious fact that Tommen was a bastard and using their military force against him. He hoped that they would refuse to participate in the war and remain neutral since he knew it would be impossible to get them to rally behind him without a Baratheon for them to rally behind. Seeing as how Cersei had killed all of the Baratheon bastards that seemed to be an impossible task.

He had no clue where Dorne would fall in this conflict. On one hand, the Lannisters had murdered his siblings and Elia Martell when they took King's Landing. Robert Baratheon had laughed when presented with the children's bodies. If Jon was anyone else, he was confident they would side with him, if it was just his Daenerys who would be ruling then they would almost certainly side with her without any marriage alliances.

But Jon was the son of the Northern Whore, Lyanna Stark. The one who had shamed Elia Martell at the tourney of Hareenhal when Rhaegar had named her the Queen of Love and Beauty; and again, when Rhaegar had started a war because he fell in love with her- a love that had been mutual and indirectly lead to the death of Elia Martell. With Myrcella Baratheon married to Trystane Martell, the odds of them spurning the Lannisters seemed to be long at best. Sansa was right about his pending marriage to his Daenerys ruining the opportunity to ally with Dorne but he remained adamant that was the best decision, not just the selfish one although it was that too. Daenerys wouldn't step aside and let him have the throne to himself. He knew her better than that and a war with her would destroy Westeros.

Jon could see The Twins below him now and fought the urge to demolish them into ashes. That was where his brother had died when he wrongly tried to proclaim himself a King and repeated the mistakes of Jon's own father. He had allowed himself to love someone he could not love, he had chosen love over his Kingdom and while Robb's actions hadn't caused a war, they had resulted in his, his wife, his mother, and all of his men's death. Robb's actions had also led to Sansa's torture at the hands of Ramsay Bolton. A small part of him hated his brother for his actions, almost as much as he hated his own parents. Even then, he was still angered by his brother's death and desired to avenge him.

The temptation was so strong to destroy them now and avenge his brother but he had to wait. Defeating the Bolton now had been necessary, and a show of power. The Boltons had betrayed the Starks and taken advantage of the Red Wedding. They held Winterfell. Their deaths were something many desired but they hadn't been nearly as personal for the Northern Lords as the Freys were. The Freys were the instigators of the Red Wedding, the ones who had butchered their fathers and brothers. They wanted to get revenge personally, not just hear about them burning at his hands. Perhaps promising revenge on the Freys is what got him the allegiance of the Tullys, he would be a fool to give his vengeance away freely when it was a tool he could use as a bargaining chip.

Riding on Rhaegal was soothing and gave Jon a peace that he hadn't felt since before his death or perhaps more accurately, Ghost's death. He hadn't realized it right away but he felt like a part of himself was missing while Rhaegal was in Meereen but he hadn't reconciled that with himself. Now, here on Rhaegal's back, he felt more complete than ever before. He and Rhaegal were two minds as one who occupied two bodies interchangeably.

Perhaps peace wasn't the right word, he didn't feel like diplomatically negotiating with the Freys for peace or anything of the sort- he still desired vengeance, fire, and blood. More than ever even. Things just felt right within himself, this was who he was meant to be. A Targaryen King, a dragon himself, riding atop a dragon. The only thing that would make this experience better was if he had his Daenerys flying beside him on his Drogon.

He missed them so much, he missed flying with Drogon and Viserion during the days, over the expansive Dothraki Sea. He missed visiting with his Daenerys in the mornings and conversing with her through odd shakes of his head. That would likely never occur again, he had given Jorah a letter that would undoubtedly reveal his connection to Rhaegal- that he was him. The next time they spoke, it would be face to face as humans, hopefully as mates and not enemies.

Jon would confess that he was terrified she would feel betrayed by finding out who Jon was from a source other than himself. He knew she trusted Rhaegal more than any other and would undoubtedly feel hurt that he hadn't shown the same trust in her. Jon had, of course, done his best to express the truth to her through vague gestures and nods but unless she had guessed what he wanted her to ask, how was he supposed to convey that Rhaegal is Prince Jon. He might think that he hadn't lied to her about anything but he was not at all confident that she would see it the same way.

In a perfect world, Jon would be able to tell her in person when she accepted his offer of marriage as equals and explain things to her but that wasn't possible. Varys had discerned the truth of Jon's secret identity as had Sansa and more would soon follow. He had been incredibly foolish, making no endeavors to hide Rhaegal's high intellect. Although to be fair, he hadn't exactly expected to come back from the dead.

Regardless, Jon had little doubt that she would know his identity before coming to Westeros at this point. He would love nothing more than to fly over to Meereen right now and speak with her in person but that was impossible. He had a kingdom to run, a kingdom that he would not be able to keep if he randomly took a two-week sabbatical in the midst of a war.

Had Jorah arrived yet? Did she know that he was Rhaegal? Had she responded to his betrothal offer? Had she said no? That was a fear that had been recurring since he left Meereen, without Rhaegal there, and knowing how she would react and being able to influence her that way he was completely in the dark.

He knew that she would feel at least somewhat betrayed that he had used her fears in explaining the reasons why she should accept his betrothal. He had used what she had told him in confidence against her. He hadn't planned on her knowing who he was at the time, his logical reasons were meant to be just that logical- not emotional manipulation. He still hoped that she would see his reasoning as it was intended; not blatant manipulation and logic and would decide to accept the offer but he was worried. She had every right to be upset with him for that and she almost certainly would be.

Jon yawned. They had ridden through the night and Jon was fatigued from his constant state of alertness. He had not slept since the previous night- even then only for a few hours at a time to fight off his exhaustion. He had expected there to be a mutiny again as the Boltons camped outside their gates and as such had not slept that much. Most of his resting time had been spent warged as a Raven he had in his room, so he could watch for any intruders who planned to kill him while also letting his body recover. Thankfully, none had come.

Controlling a Raven as the only voice was not an easy task, he could control the bird but it did take considerable energy and while his body was recuperating during his time as a bird, his mind had not. Perhaps it would have been smart to rest for the night- he would almost certainly still outpace a raven on it's way to Riverrun even with a quick pit stop for the night. Regardless, it was far too late for that now. He had chosen his path and as long as he never got off of Rhaegal's back until the battle was over, he would do his part just fine even while tired.

He could spot what Jon thought was Riverrun now, he had admittedly never been there so it was theoretically possible he was mistaken. A triangular castle surrounded by waters on all sides. The castle was a reddish color- sandstone walls they were Jon knew from his reading in preparation for this very moment. Camped outside the castle were dozens of tents likely stocked with Frey men. On top of the castle flew unrecognizable flags to Jon's human eyes from such a distance on a windy day like today.

Jon gave Rhaegal a mental command to stop moving forward so he would be at less risk of following off. He then warged into Rhaegal and used the dragon's enhanced eyesight- designed to pierce through the elements. He could see the flag in clear enough notice the red and blue stripes and the blobby grey thing in the middle that he could only assume was the silver trout of House Tully. Satisfied with the results of his investigation, Jon warged back into his human skin. Alongside it was the direwolf banner of House Stark. The Tullys appeared to still hold some loyalty to the Starks, which would likely make his job easier.

He had slid off of Rhaegal's back slightly and was one powerful gust of wind away from falling to his death. Perhaps, he shouldn't try warging into Rhaegal again while on his back- at least not until he had a saddle of some sort to fasten himself in even as his body slacked and went into unconsciousness.

His investigation had proved as fruitful as he had hoped. The Tully's still held Riverrun against the Freys which meant that they would be indebted to him when he broke the siege and his journey wasn't pointless. Between saving their lives and land, along with having Sansa as his hand made the odds of him winning their loyalty almost a certain success.

Jon gave Rhaegal the subconscious order to fly higher, out of sight of their army so they could loop back around and avoid being caught in the crosshairs of the ballistae that the Freys had built for their siege on the castle. Thankfully, there weren't too many of them as they seemed content to simply starve the Tullys out. They were also primarily encircling the western side that was only protected by a moat and not a pair of rivers with strong currents that made crossing difficult. That made things simpler for Jon as he only needed to be wary of enemies in one direction largely. He could

Jon clenched his thighs around Rhaegal's back to hold himself steady and reached into his gambeson for a copper ringlet. It was a different ringlet then the one he had previously worn as that one had already burned through but it's purpose was the same. To complete the look and intimidate his enemies- to let them see that he was who he claimed to be if the dragon didn't already show it. The crown of fire on him proved that magic existed though and that opened up the possibility of other magics like the Others existing to the close-minded.

He pulled out a small vial filled with burning oil and emptied it onto the crown. He then pulled out a dry rag and doused that in oil as well. He had Rhaegal stop moving and removed a piece of flint which he dragged against Rhaegals scales to create sparks that fell onto the oil dosed rag, catching it on fire. Rhaegal whined slightly at the uncomfortable sensation but Jon knew that it had caused him no pain. He then picked up the burning rag, ignoring the pleasant sensations that the flames on his fingertips caused him to experience and draped the rag over the crown. As expected, the crown caught fire as well. Satisfied with the results of that endeavor he placed the crown upon his brow and clenched the rag with one fist until it had been completely burnt through and could be easily discarded.

Rhaegal let out a loud roar that could be heard for miles and it caused, all the onlookers below them to glance up at the sky. Satisfied that he now had their attention, Jon then gave the command to dive down to the ground.

They broke into a dive at much higher velocities than Jon had experienced as just Rhaegal's rider and not Rhaegal himself. His grip tightened around Rhaegal's spinal ridges and his thighs clenched hard around the dragon as he hung on for dear life. Riding a dragon was harder than it looked. Yet, there was something so thrilling about plummeting towards his death that made him want to whoop with glee.

As they neared the ground, Jon ordered Rhaegal to swoop back up, and shot a burst of fire harmlessly into the skies. Intimidation not destruction was the goal here. He gently lowered himself down on the outer edges of the camp and Rhaegal sat raised on his haunches as over a thousand men looked towards them in fear and trepidation.

Jon's breath was short and came in labored huffs after that high-speed dive. His head was pounding and his heart was beating faster than ever before. He needed a moment to re-orient himself before proceeding.

Jon's head no longer felt the flames ticking at his skin. He gingerly reached his hand up to his crown and found it sticky with oil but no longer aflame. It appeared that the harsh winds had blown the fire out on the dive down. His crown would be an accessory only used while on the ground apparently as the wind was too strong to keep the flames alive in the air.

Finally coherent, Jon gave Rhaegal the signal to roar once more, shaking the earth. The dragon then let out an inferno of flames straight into the sky. All eyes around the campground were locked onto him in terror. Even the Tully soldiers were clustered on the walls of Riverrun looking out to see what the commotion was about. Just as he wanted.

The moment Rhaegal fell silent, Jon filled in, in his absence. "I am King Jon of Houses Stark, and Targaryen," He recited. "Rightful King of the Andals, the Rhyonar, and the First Men; Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. The unburnt, the resurrected one, and the Dragon."

"House Frey has betrayed their oaths of Fealty to Robb Stark, House Targaryen, and House Tully. They have betrayed the Gods themselves- both the old and the new by breaking Guest Right and murdering Robb Stark at the wedding of their Lord Paramount Edmure Tully. The Gods are just and will have their vengeance for the crimes of House Frey."

"Every man who picks up their sword and turns it against anyone over the age of four and ten bearing the name Frey will be pardoned by the crown for their treason against both House Targaryen." The moment Jon said that, people immediately began to move into action. Swords were out and being thrust into the sides of the men who he presumed were Freys. "...King Robb Stark, and House Tully."

"Anyone who chooses to stand with House Frey will be burnt alive by my dragon. Any child who is killed under the age of four and ten; regardless of their name- their killer will join them in death. Anyone who uses this opportunity to kill a man not bearing the name Frey will be charged with murder." He shouted out although the noise of the fighting made him skeptical that he was truly heard.

The Frey's were losing, there might be around three-hundred men Frey men but the majority of the soldiers here were their bannerman who hadn't remained loyal to House Tully. Even if every Frey fought for the Freys. The other men would outnumber them and likely win even if everyone who had the blood of a Frey fought on their behalf and Jon or the men camped within Riverrun didn't join in. He expected neither of those to be the case.

Some of the Freys who had married into other Houses would likely turn on their kin to save their own skins. They would use that house as a shield to protect themselves from a dragon's wrath and hope that by turning on their kin they could be forgiven. Only the men who were actually named Freys would fight for the Freys.

There was a sense of poetic justice in this moment of triumph as he watched a bald man bearing the crest twin towers of House Frey on his gambeson was run through by three separate blades and a stray arrow, likely aimed for the fallen Frey hit one of the aggressors in the arm; a man who wore the mistletoe sigil of House Charlton. House Charlton had long been vassals of House Frey and their current Lady was married to a Frey bastard even but still, they when faced by a dragon, did not hesitate to turn on them.

There was poetic justice for the Freys. They had broken guest right and they were dying in a similar manner; granted vows of Fealty was nowhere near the magnitude of guest right it was still a dishonorable death; being betrayed in a place where they should have felt safe. They were being butchered by their own kin even; distant kin maybe but it was still kinslaying nonetheless. The best part is no one would judge the men who butchered the Freys for murdering their kin. Almost everyone in all the Seven Kingdoms would agree that this is what they deserved.

Jon was hardly familiar with southern religion but even he knew that the Seven-Pointed Star wrote: "And if any wrongdoing follows, then thou shalt give life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, foot for foot, and burning for burning. For thou gods always demand justice for sins done against men as if they were done unto the gods, this is the holy decree of the seven. Let every man's crimes be repaid unto them in an equal measure." The Freys had broken guest right, and even kinslaying was less sacred than that. Any method that he used even if he were to break guest right against the Freys would be considered equal measure by the seven and karma by the old gods.

A trumpet sounded and then the drawbridge that barred the gateway to Riverrun began to lower, clearly the sight of his dragon had emboldened the Blackfish to finally join the battle with his few hundred men that had been holed up in the castle.

They charged into the chaos on foot the moment the bridge had dropped. The Blackfish at the front of their charge with flag bearers flying the Trout of House Tully alongside the direwolf of House Stark flanking the sides of their army.

An arrow flew through the air in the direction of his face before Rhaegal lifted his head and blocked the projectile with his hardened scales. The arrow fell uselessly to the ground, unable to cause the dragon even an iota of pain. He looked towards the terrified archer who had fired the arrow in his direction and grinned savagely. He leaned forward and gripped the ridges of Rhaegal's spine in his fists.

"Rhaegal, Ossēnagon." He said quietly and together they leaped onto the form of the archer who had recklessly attacked him.

* * *

Edmure had been sitting in a dark cell for what he was sure was over a year now, he had lost sense of how long it had been a while ago. He sat in a dark empty cell, alone with only scraps for meals and not even a cot to sleep on ever since his wedding to that accursed Frey girl, Roslin. Every once in a while he would be dragged outside with a knife to his throat and they would boast to his uncle about how they would kill him if he did not surrender the castle to them. Other times, they would torture him for his uncle to watch as they whipped him or beat him.

There was very little love between him and Brynden but it still hurt to see his uncle tell Ser Emmon to kill him each time they marched him out there. Edmure knew that it was the smart decision on his uncle's part to tell them that; they had proven they wouldn't do it and he knew in his head that Ser Emmon Frey would never throw away his leverage like that. Judging by the fact that they hadn't yet attempted to storm the castle, they were clearly weren't willing to damage the building so keeping Edmure alive for the time being was crucial to Ser Emmon.

Yet, seeing his uncle tell them to kill him was painful every time. While Edmure wished he would find the strength to do the same if Brynden was captured. Heck, Brynden would encourage him to do just that but Edmure was uncertain if he would have that same resolve to throw his uncle to the lions like that. _Family, Duty, Honor,_ those were the words of House Tully; in that particular order even. Should not his uncle prioritize his life over his duty to hold the castle against the Freys? Over his honor that wouldn't allow him to surrender? Family was supposed to come first but his uncle seemed to have forgotten that.

All of their words were just a joke now in all fairness. They had forsaken their bonds of family by going on the defensive after the red wedding instead of striking back to rescue him and avenge King Robb. The Freys were even their kin by his god-forsaken marriage but they had forsaken the words of their house the night that they had joined their houses.

They had all forsaken their duty to protect their overlord, to protect their king. They had regened on their duty for selfish gain. Only he seemed to remember his duty to his King but he was trapped in this cell, unable to enact his King's will.

There was a clap of what Edmure could only assume was thunder. Odd considering how he didn't hear any of the patterings of rain along with the thunder but not entirely unwelcome.

He supposed he wasn't the only one who remembered their duty, there was another it seemed. A Frey of all people even; the world had truly had truly gone mad if the only person left with even a smidgeon of honor was a blasted Frey. Olyvar Frey to be precise, a boy of eight and ten before his cursed wedding; probably a year older by now.

Olyvar had been the squire to King Robb before his foolish wedding to the Queen Talisa Maegyr. When he had first brought Edmure food aside from the cursed slop that they fed him every day to make sure he stayed alive, Edmure had thought it poisoned and refused to eat. Olyvar had whispered _Long live Robb Stark, the King in the North,_ each time and left with the tantalizing food, not wanting to risk his loyalty to Robb being exposed by leaving the food with him. He would have to eat it while Olyvar was on guard duty to his cell or Olyvar would die for his treasonous acts at least that's what he claimed; Edmure had thought it a trap.

Then he had been marched outside by Ser Emmon and Brynden had encouraged the Freys to kill him already. The next time that Olyvar came by with a rich smelling bread and some burnt pork with specs of dirt and some sauce he didn't recognize. He knew the food had come from the trash, the waste that wasn't good enough for the Freys to put upon their own plates but it still looked much better then the slop they fed him. Edmure had given in to the temptation and ate it, it had tasted even better than it looked and smelled. If his uncle wanted him dead and would not surrender under any circumstances then he was as good as dead anyway, how was poison any better than the noose?

To his shock and satisfaction, the food had not been poisoned. That time or the hundreds of other times after then. Olyvar truly did appear to be loyal to King Robb and could carry out his will while Edmure could not. Yet Edmure remained suspicious about if this was a trap by another honorless Frey. What if he was only being kind to him to extract this information from him? What if they had figured out that Robb had to have an heir and needed Edmure to tell them who it was since all the other witnesses to his will had been murdered at his wedding?

Besides even if he did tell Olyvar who their King was, what would it change? No one would believe the word of a Frey proclaiming that a bastard was the King's heir and after his death he would be their King. Right now his King was protected from the Lannisters and Freys by his vows to the Night's Watch that Robb had absolved him of. If he left the watch when Olyvar reached him with word of King Robb's will then he would be executed as a deserted to the Night's Watch. He would just be sending both Olyvar and his King to their deaths.

Edmure had to stay alive if he wanted to serve his King; right now his death would mean the end of King Robb's legacy and the end of House Stark. He had to be the King's herald for men to believe that he was truly the heir of King Robb. He couldn't just shout it out to the crowd when he was dragged out as a hostage either, if he did that then the Freys would be waiting at the wall to kill his King once more before he could escape. He would not let his King die because of his actions- not again.

He had not been idle sitting in his cell since that revelation, he had not twidled his thumbs and waited for death to come to him. He might be weaker than usual from the lack of food but he had taken to exercising to pass the time so he retained some of his usual strength. When there was an opening he would escape and race to the wall to inform the King of his predecessors will.

That opening would likely have to come once they finally took Riverrun, and were too drunk to have proper security. Only then would he ask Olyvar to free him and trust him with the knowledge of who King Robb's heir was. Escape might be a longshot but he would die fighting at the very least instead of on his knees.

His duty told him not to give up his castle to the Freys, even temporarily. He would be betraying his family to serve a King that he shared no blood with. He would be dishonorable in his method of escape but he had sworn a vow to his king and he would fulfill his duty to his King.

House Tully would come to an end with his uncle and him, if he did nothing. He wanted his uncle to surrender not just for the sake of his own life but in order to keep his house alive. His uncle would be killed, and he soon after but they would die anyway. The Frey girl might carry his child and the child might share his blood but he wouldn't truly be a Tully despite what his blood might say. He would be named as a Frey, raised by Freys, and be betrothed to a Frey who he would marry when he came of age. He would never learn what their house words meant or who his forefathers were. He would never learn to love his King Robb Stark or have a sense of honor. The boy would be a Frey in every way. He was thinking of the future of his house when he wished to see his uncle surrender.

He would not be doing his duty as the Lord of Riverrun by fleeing the castle but he would be doing his duty as the sole living witness to the will of King Robb. He would be doing his duty to his King and King Robb was family even if his successor wasn't. The Freys would get the amount of honor that they deserved which was exactly none, House Tully was no weakling who would let their honor stop them from repaying in kind to those who dishonored them.

Another roar of thunder wrenched Edmure out of his musings. It was a bestial noise, unlike any thunder he had ever heard before. It sounded impossibly close now, as if the storm was directly overhead. He glanced around expecting to see lightning but his cell was windowless so of course, he saw nothing.

He allowed himself to fantasize about the Gods actually being just and the lightning that was directly overhead would strike Ser Emmon down. After him then Black Walder would fall to the Gods' wrath, followed by Ser Ryman than Ser Aegon and Ser Patrek until soon all the Freys besides the lone good one, Olyvar.

He snorted at the thought as if that would ever happen. The Gods were not just, if they were then King Robb would still live and the Freys would all be dead. More likely, the lightning would strike his uncle and give Ser Emmon Riverrun by fluke chance. That seemed to be who the Gods were these days. Granted, he wanted Ser Emmon to take Riverrun so he might be able to escape but he still didn't want his uncle dead.

He sat in silence ruminating his potential escape and how he would break the news to his King. How would his King react? If he was at all like how Catelyn had described him then he would no doubt jump at the opportunity to claim power. Although the way Robb had spoken of him made him think that Catelyn had been biased and projected her fears of who the bastard could be onto who he was. He would be just like Robb, a good King but wiser than his brother. He would give them their vengeance on the Freys and their independence from the Lannisters.

There were screams coming from outside now; he couldn't hear much but the voices crying out were too numerous for him to not hear anything. Had the Freys finally gone on the offensive against Riverrun? Or had the gods truly been just and struck their camp with lightning and sent their army into a panic? That would be a pleasant surprise but he doubted it was the case. More likely the screams he heard were the sound of his uncle and his men dying. Hopefully, they killed some Freys on their way out at the very least.

"Get up!" A voice barked at him harshly.

Edmure slowly turned towards the voice and took in the sight of the Frey man who had shouted at him. His eyes were frantically scanning the room and he held a dagger in one hand as well as a torch in the other. His skin was weasely and he was as unattractive as any Frey. If Edmure was remembering correctly then he was Ser Ryman.

"I said get up!" He snapped once more at him. Edmure wasn't sure why this was so urgent, perhaps his uncle had gained the upper hand and they were looking to reclaim their position by using him as a hostage. Regardless of why the Frey wanted him to move, if a Frey wanted it then he didn't.

The Frey scowled at him when he refused to move. He stuck the key in the lock and threw the door open in spite of no backup or waiting until he was clearly unable to counterattack. He immediately went over to Edmure with a scowl. "Get up now!" He snapped and thrust the dagger towards him.

Whatever was going on outside had him thinking that he needed Edmure, the screams seemed to indicate that his uncle had done something and they wanted to use him as a hostage to regain control of the situation that had quickly grown chaotic. If there was a battle right now then the chaos could give him the cover he needed to escape. He seemed to be alone with only one Frey in his way. Granted; the Frey had a weapon and Edmure did not but he only had to defeat one opponent to possibly get free and to go tell his King of the will of King Robb. He knew he would not have a better chance than this.

The Frey grabbed onto his sackcloth gown that was the only clothing he had worn during his captivity and Edmure struck. He spun out of the Frey's grip and lashed out with a fist to the Freys nose.

The Frey stumble back and lashed out with a blind swipe of his dagger. The dagger missed him since the Frey had been pushed back away from him.

Edmure lowered his shoulder and charged the Frey guard, tackling him to the ground. That was not his best idea as the Frey's torch that he held in his left fist reflexively flicked towards Edmure's unguarded back as he fell. Edmure let out a small scream as his back was burned and quickly rolled off the Frey.

The Frey dropped the torch and it rolled away into a puddle of water plunging the room back into complete darkness. Edmure could only see the vague outline of his opponent but the Frey seemingly couldn't even see that much as he spun around and blindly lashed out with his dagger away from Edmure.

Edmure once again charged towards the Frey and tackled him to the ground. He landed on top of the semi-armored soldier and slammed his fist into his unprotected face. Or at least, he tried to but he missed the mark and instead hit his neck which was covered in chainmail.

"Fuck," he cursed as he knuckles stung. Still, he wouldn't let himself be distracted by that pain. He slammed his fist down once more a little higher up this time and his fist found purchase on his jaw. He slammed his fists down repeatedly on the Freys' unprotected face; reigning down blow after blow until he felt the Frey go slack underneath him.

Exhausted Edmure rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He laid there unmoving for a while before sighing and groping around for the Freys dagger. He could escape now, he wouldn't waste his chance because he was in pain or needed to rest.

At last, his fingers found what he had been searching for. He tightened his grip around the handle only to let go with a cry of pain. Blood ran down his fingertips sr his right hand was littered with cuts now. It appeared that he had accidentally grabbed the weapon by the blade and not the handle as he had intended.

He tentatively reached out for the dagger again, this time running his hands over the top of the weapon rather than just grabbing as he had before. He felt the smooth part of the blade with his bloody hands and continued onwards, tracing the weapon until he found the cool leather of the handle.

He sighed in relief even as he winced at the pain of using his palm when he gripped the weapon once again and this time did not get injured by it. He pulled his right hand now clutching the dagger back to him and then with only a moment of hesitation he transferred the blade to his left hand. He was not at all experienced in fighting with his left holding the blade but he wasn't sure he could even hold onto the blade if he met any resistance while using his mangled right hand.

Edmure hauled himself to his feet, his blistering back groaning in pain as he did so. He did his best to shut it out and focus on his escape. He exited the cell through the door that the Frey had left open and followed the path down the somewhat familiar hallway of Stone Mill where he had been held captive for the past however long. He had been marched through the hallways on multiple occasions to be trusted up before his uncaring uncle. This was the first time that he made the walk under his own power, by his own choice.

He waded through a dark sticky liquid that judging by the corpses on the ground appeared to be blood. What was going on here that would lead to so many Freys indiscriminately slaughtered? Did it matter what it was if it got him the chance to be free? The Freys deserved what they got and then some.

His vision was flooded with light as he reached the top floor of the building and a windowed room. There were more dead men lying on the ground up there, all bearing the Frey coat of arms. An abundance of holes on their body. He ignored the corpses and exited the building to what could only be described as madness.

There was an actual dragon sitting on the ground outside Riverrrun with a rider on it's back as it chewed on a distinctively human figure. The man had a rugged but handsome face and dark hair, not too unlike that of Eddard Stark before his death. He did not look to be a Targaryen aside from the way that he dressed in Targaryen regalia. King Robb like everyone else had heard the rumors of Daenerys Targaryen across the narrow sea having dragons but had dismissed them as a sailor's tale and complete nonsense. Even if she had been real, the Lannisters were the threat, not the dragons. They would have worried about them once she was in Westeros and not until then.

He didn't see any silver Targaryen hair anywhere but he could only assume that the dragons' rider was Daenerys Targaryen's new husband. Some Essosi noble or perhaps Westerosi traitor with smooth features who had married her to be a King and as her husband rode her dragon into battle and called himself a Targaryen. Things had clearly changed since Edmure had last seen the outside world.

He looked away from the dragon, an admittedly difficult task with how attention-grabbing the thing was. The drawbridge to Riverrun had been lowered and there were Tully and direwolf banners flying high in the sky overhead.

Edmure felt a swell of bride that his brother had not forgotten who his King was even when faced by a Targaryen and their dragon. They took advantage of the Targaryen's arrival without forgetting who their King was. Robb Stark and his heir, Jon Stark were their King and no one else. Not any Baratheon, Lannister, or Targaryen.

The Targaryen King seemed oddly pleased at what was going on in spite of the direwolf banners flying overhead. Did he think they would be loyal to him for this? Or was he like the mad king and simply wanted them all to be burned alive and now that they showed their true colors he could do that?

Edmure shook his head, it didn't matter what his reasoning was. Edmure would use this opportunity he had been given to escape and tell his King of his new title. There was a stable on the outcrops of the Freys encampment, if he could get there, he could steal a horse and escape the Targaryen and Freys and journey to the wall.

Knowing that it was only a matter of time until the Freys spotted him and tried to leverage him like the Frey in his cell had, Edmure broke into a sprint. He hadn't run on uneven ground in far too long, only running in place within his own cell. His back was also blistering from the Freys' torch so it was only natural that he loses his footing after only moving a handful of feet.

He faceplanted in a pile of mud and coughed as he swallowed some of it. The dagger slipped out of his grip and clattered to the ground a few feet away from him. Edmure groaned as he did a pushup to lift himself off the ground. His back screamed in protest but he refused to give in to his body's weakness.

He was forcibly hauled the rest of the way up to his feet and a blade was pressed against his throat. Edmure caught the sight of a Frey in his peripheral vision, Ser Ryman perhaps. He thought that he had killed him in the cell but clearly he was mistaken about who it was one of those times. Bloody Freys all looked the same.

"Lord Edmure," Ser Ryman said with a wide grin. "So glad you ran into me, you'll be the perfect hostage to force the bastard to let me go home free."

Edmure froze knowing that any twitch would mean the end of his life as the Frey would slit his throat and the secret of who King Robb had named as his heir would join him in the grave. He had to be the willing hostage, again, he would be a powerless prisoner.

"Walk," the Frey snarled gesturing in the direction of the stables where Edmure had already been planning to head without the Freys influence. He took a hesitant step forward as the Frey did the same and the blade remained in front of his throat.

They continued slowly progressing that way as the Frey made sure that everyone who looked their way could see the valuable cargo that he carried and gave him a wide berth as a result. The blade never left his throat for more than a second and for the most part they were largely ignored by the chaotic crowd that was too busy murdering the Freys to notice the one that was holding their liege lord.

Edmure took a small step forward but the Frey did not follow behind him. A sword appeared next to his ear and the sword that had been pressed to his neck fell away. He turned to see what had happened and found the pleasant sight of a dead Frey with a sword point protruding from where his nose had been.

The limp body fell to the ground as gravity pulled the Frey down to the ground and the sword cut through the top of his skull. The sight of a grim-faced Olyvar Frey greeted him. Olyvar had slain his own kin to protect Edmure. He knew that there was no love between him and his family but he had never expected him to go to such lengths for him. Perhaps he could afford to trust Olyvar Frey, he had proven where his loyalty stood time and time again.

"Thank you, Olyvar," He said quietly.

Olyvar only nodded. "The King wants all the Freys dead-" Olyvar was cut off as a spear was thrust into his back. He slumped to the ground quickly losing blood and grunted in pain.

"My Lord Edmure, are you alright?" A man bearing the Keath coat of arms asked as he removed his spear from Olyvars back.

Edmure wasn't sure why he was calling the Targaryen the King but it didn't matter, he had saved Edmure's life. The foolish Keath would be given the same treatment if Olyvar didn't survive.

"Find Olyvar medical assistance right now!" He barked.

"My Lord?" The Keath who had stabbed him asked in confusion. "The King told us to kill all the Freys for their part in the red wedding."

"Olyvar just saved my life you imbecile!" Edmure screeched. "He's loyal to his King, unlike you!"

"M'Lord," another man intervened. "We-:

"I don't care," Edmure cut him off. "The only King I know is the one in the North whose name is Stark." He was drowned out by the sound of the dragon roaring, loud enough that his ears were ringing.

The men who had been arguing with immediately fell silent and looked towards the Targaryen with clear fear. Edmure was terrified as well but they're fear was going to cause Olyvar to bleed out. Tradition would mandate that he repaid his life debt to his closest kin, another Frey and he wouldn't be able to honor that without sparing someone who murdered his King. He would not do that. "I am your Liege Lord and I ordered you to get Olyvar medical assistance! If he dies on your watch then you will join him in death!" He shrieked.

He was far too loud and too many eyes turned towards him when he shouted that out. Two of those being the beady bronze eyes of the dragon. He gulped nervously as the dragon leaped into the air with the Targaryen on his back and flew towards him. Part of him wanted to try to run but he had attracted the attention of a dragon, there was no outrunning it. He should have just let Olyvar die then he could still flee to the North and tell his King who he was. Now, he would be forced to face a dragon head-on.

The dragon flapped its wings overhead and the crowd quickly dispersed to clear a space for him to land but Edmure stood rooted in place, he had sworn he would never again kneel to a dragon and he planned on keeping that promise.

The Targaryen dismounted from his dragon and stood on the ground directly across from Edmure himself. He turned towards the crowd that had flocked around them. "You!" He shouted pointing at a man bearing the Shawney coat of arms. "Take the boy to a maester as your Liege Lord ordered."

The Shawney man bowed, "Yes, Your Grace." He replied dutifully before hoisting Olyvar up into his arms.

With Olyvar taken care of, no doubt a tactic to try to endear Edmure to him, the Targaryen turned to Edmure. "Lord Edmure Tully, I presume." The King greeted him with a slight dip of his head to show respect.

"I am," Edmure said without giving any ground. He did not kneel as one usually did before a King nor did he even dip his head to show respect to a false King with no claim to the Riverlands.

The King's stance hardened at the lack of respect he was shown. "If you kneel and reaffirm your vows of fealty to me and my houses then I will raise you up once again as the rightful Lord of Riverrun." He promised with some steel in his voice.

Edmure did not flinch at the tone nor did he kneel in spite of easy it would be to do so. Family, Duty, and Honor were the words of his house and he would live by them. "House Tully knows no King except the King in the North whose name is Stark. I will not betray my King." He knew that he would die here for his refusal to kneel but he would die with his honor intact and be loyal unto the end.

The King's fists clenched at his sides. "House Stark has knelt to me, Sansa Stark serves as my hand even. If you are loyal to House Stark then you would also kneel to me. You will be given back your position as Lord Paramount as well." He added the last part in what seemed to be desperation.

It appeared that Robb had been right to disinherit Sansa, and name Jon Snow as his heir. His sister was as untrustworthy as he had feared. "Sansa No Name is no Stark. King Robb disinherited her before his passing."

The Targaryen frowned at that revelation as the crowd gasped, likely knowing that it would cost him the North's loyalty and hopefully Edmure's uncle's as well. "Rickon Stark, has bent the knee to me as well." He hissed through gritted teeth.

"Rickon Stark is dead. Whatever imposter you've trusted up is of no interest to me. He is not King Robb's heir and I owe him no loyalty."

"Then who is?" The King demanded losing his temper slightly. "Every living Stark has bent the knee to me. Yet you remain as obstinate as your sister about how I am no King and a good for nothing-" He cut himself off and reigned in his anger. "So you choose death then?" He asked quietly. "You would rather die than kneel?"

Edmure's resolve was hardened by the fact that Lysa had refused to kneel as well. He was saddened by her passing but it only strengthened his loyalty and refusal to kneel. He now knew that his uncle would refuse to kneel as well if even his sister had the courage to do the same. The Targaryen would never claim Riverrun. "I would." He said with more bravery then he felt.

He turned back to his dragon and stroked the top of the beast's scales. "Have you any last words?" He asked with clear anger.

Edmure hesitated if he died here so would King Robb's will, no one would ever inform Jon Snow of his position. He claimed that Sansa Stark was his hand, that meant he had or at least wanted the North to kneel to him. If Jon Snow was revealed as Robb's heir and he killed Jon Snow he would lose the North. If he shouted it for all to hear then he wouldn't be able to stop the information from spreading. He would have to leave Jon Snow alive to pacify the North and they would plot to put Jon Snow on the throne in place of this Targaryen with the revelation of Robb's will. Regardless, of how he acted this information would damage the Targaryen's cause and he might wind up with Jon Snow ruling the North.

He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted for all the world to hear. "The only King I recognize is the heir of King Robb and legitimized son of Lord Eddard Stark, Jon Stark!" He closed his eyes and waited for the dragon's fire to consume him and take him to the next life as the Targaryen would no doubt snarl the command for the dragon to kill him right away as Edmure deconstructed his plans.

Instead of fire, he heard laughter. He hesitantly opened his eyes and found the Targaryen leaning against his dragon holding his side as he laughed at his last declaration. He glanced around the clearing and saw all of his men laughing as well, even his uncle was chuckling at him. Heck, even the dragon snorted at him.

Was loyalty so rare these days that they found his amusing? Was it the idea of a bastard being a King that they found so laughable? He had been against it when Robb has suggested it but it was his decision and he was bound to follow his King. He had to be dreaming, his uncle wasn't particularly fond of him but he would not laugh at his death. He pinched his arm but did not wake up from any dream.

"What is so fucking funny?" Edmure snarled. That only prompted the crowd to laugh even more at his expense.

The Targaryen righted himself and smiled at Edmure, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "I never did introduce myself, did I? I'm King Jon, the son of Lyanna Stark."

_Oh._

* * *

He had thought when Edmure Tully refused to bend the knee that he was refusing because he was not one of Catelyn Tully's sons, that he was only a cousin to Robb. He had thought that he like, his sister refused to see Jon as anyone of value. He thought that Edmure had been poisoned by Catelyn Tully's lies about who he was. He had never imagined that his obstinance and refusal to bow was not due to a refusal to acknowledge Jon's claim but out of loyalty to Jon. He had just presumed that like everyone else, Edmure Tully would be aware of who he was and his heritage. It had never crossed Jon's mind that Edmure wouldn't have learned that while in captivity. He had never dreamed a man would refuse to bow to him out of loyalty to Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell- or well apparently legitimized bastard, Jon Stark. King Jon Stark, the heir of King Robb Stark.

In another life, Jon would have been thrilled beyond all measure that Robb had thought to legitimize him as a Stark and had named him his heir. Before his death, he had wanted nothing more than to be a Stark. If he hadn't been chosen as Lord Commander, he likely would have accepted Stannis's offer of legitimization if he bent the knee. That had been his dream to be a trueborn Stark, to be Lord of Winterfell. If he had learned of Robb's will he would have happily donned the crown and been Jon Stark, the King in the North. He would have continued his brother's fight for Northern Independence.

His death had opened his eyes to who he was though, he had learned that he was not just a Stark but a Targaryen. He no longer needed to be Stark to belong because he had another family of dragons. He had a great uncle who accepted him in spite of his bastard status. He had his Daenerys who he would rule beside. He still was a Stark but he was more of a dragon than a wolf now.

Robb's actions as kindhearted and well-intentioned as him legitimizing Jon and disinheriting Sansa probably was, complicated things. He had planned on framing the marriage pact that would result in him sharing his power equally with his Daenerys as legitimizing his claim to the throne. His uncle had refused to claim the crown because he had no claim and Jon would echo his uncle in that behavioral pattern. He would reinforce the North's idea that he was an honorable Stark and not a mad Targaryen by doing so, as much as they would grumble about his decision to do so.

That option was no longer available to him. If he tried to frame his marriage to his Daenerys as legitimizing his claim then he would be refusing to acknowledge his brother's authority as King. That would turn the North against him, and apparently the Riverlands as well. He had to acknowledge his brother as being their former King to keep his Kingdoms.

Sansa was an even more complicated issue, Robb had disinherited her to stop Tyrion Lannister from becoming Lord of Winterfell; a decision that Jon would have made in his place if he didn't know who Tyrion Lannister truly was, that he was the black sheep of the Lannisters. Jon had planned on giving her Winterfell, in accordance with the laws of inheritance that they wanted to implement in their new world. As the eldest child of Eddard Stark, it was her birthright.

Except it no longer was hers by rights. Robb had disinherited Sansa and it would now fall to the next eldest child; the missing Arya Stark or Bran if he somehow had survived beyond the wall. Rickon if all else failed. Sansa would view it as his favoritism causing him to give Winterfell to Arya who wouldn't even want it and he needed to keep Sansa loyal to him with the position and power he had given to her. He had to keep her happy and stripping her of her name would have the opposite effect. Yet, once again if he showed any disregard for Robb's actions and authority as King, he would risk losing the North and the Riverlands. If he lost those two Kingdoms then the Vale would likely follow. As much as Baelish might care for Sansa and want to be King, he wouldn't back Jon as King if there was no chance of victory.

A redfaced Lord Edmure Tully had fallen to his knees the moment he had realized that the Targaryen who he had defied was the Stark who he had called his King. He had sworn House Tully and Riverrun to him and proclaimed Jon Stark the trueborn King and rightful heir to the Iron Throne. He had promised to gather together all of the Riverlords at Riverrun within six weeks to reaffirm their vows of fealty to him.

Words were wind, as he had learned in his time with the Night's Watch. A vow would not stop them from acting against him. They might call him their King but if he were to disrespect Robb in any way, he had no doubt that he would lose the loyalty of the Tully's and their armed forces just as easily as he would lose the North.

Sansa had sent word saying she had gotten Lord Robyn Arryn to call the Lords of the Vale to the Eyrie to swear fealty to Jon. Baelish would inform him when the Lords were there and he needed to fly to the Vale with Sansa. He estimated that it would be in a moon's turn. Sansa was on her way back to Winterfell now and would return shortly before he met with the Northern Lords; presuming, of course, that the winds were kind to her. All it had taken for Robyn Arryn to give him a Kingdom was a promise to be made Jon's squire and an unnamed spot on his council given to Baelish. Sansa had suggested making him the Master of Coin, or Master of whispers but those spots were reserved for Tyrion and Varys when they along with his Daenerys joined him in Westeros. Officially, at least, unofficially Baelish was undoubtedly won over by the fact that for the time being, Sansa was his heir.

He had returned to Winterfell after only one night in Riverrun. When he had arrived on the back of a dragon, the last remnants of the Boltons household guard had bent the knee to him. He had claimed the largest guest quarters, intent on leaving the Lord's chambers available to Sansa as she would probably serve as the Lady of Winterfell, or perhaps they would go to Arya or even Rickon. He still had to figure out how to deal with that conundrum that Robb had left for him.

Jon hoped that Arya would arrive in Winterfell soon, the Boltons were gone and he was a King now. She would want to be here, especially once she heard he had a dragon, she had always wanted to meet one and she would have the opportunity to do so. He kept on glancing outside his window, expecting to see Arya riding into Winterfell, to be reunited with him again. She had yet to come, the last he knew of her location was when Brienne had apparently fought the Hound for custody of Arya at the Gates of the Moon. If only Arya had acquiesced and gone with Brienne. He wasn't entirely fond of Sansa's sworn sword but she would have been able to bring Arya back to him.

He glanced out the window once more and once again did not see his wayward sister- not that he really expected to. Where could she be that would keep her from returning home? What had happened to her that would stop her from traveling to be with Jon? She had hated leaving him behind in Winterfell when she went south. He was positive that if she was able, she would have journeyed to him by now. So what was keeping her? What had happened to her?

He shook his head. He wouldn't think that way, he couldn't think that way. He couldn't think that she was hurt or dead somewh-." He snarled audibly and shook his head once more. He wasn't going there.

He sat at his desk and turned his thoughts back to more important matters. The meeting with the Northern Lords and how he would handle the news of Robb's will. How would he get them to accept his Daenerys as his wife and equal in power?

Perhaps he could simply be blunt and lie saying that his Daenerys had been the one to send Rhaegal; a lie he had already told. He could take it a step further and claim that Rhaegal was only on their side because his Daenerys had decreed it so. He could say that Rhaegal was hers which was true but he was also his and it would hurt him and Rhaegal both for him to publicly reject him as his own as he would have to for him to sell the lie when they saw her interact with Rhaegal. She might have been close to him but Jon is Rhaegal.

He could be blunt about her having three dragons and try to frame it as having no choice but to share power or lose it all but that might go over even worse than rejecting Robb's authority as a King. He would be making her out as a dictator which was exactly what his Daenerys wanted to avoid. She wanted to be known as more than the Mad King's daughter and by framing their marriage that way she never would be.

He also wasn't confident that the Lords wouldn't try to argue that with such an advantage in the numbers of their grounded troops, they could defeat her in battle. He was certain that they wouldn't be wrong in that assumption. Even after he had patched things over between his Daenerys and her other children, he still was fairly certain that he could at the very least get Viserion to side with them. Rhaegal might even be able to persuade Drogon to turn his Daenerys over to them on the assurances that she would not be hurt. Even if he couldn't turn the dragons, if he had all the forces of the North, Riverlands, and the Vale then he would likely prevail even with her holding the advantage in quantity of dragons. He wasn't entirely certain but the odds were good enough that victory was certain and even if it wasn't his Daenerys he would be fighting he would likely sue for peace in that instance but he had the advantage there.

He drummed his fingers on his desk as he brainstormed. He could make up some lie about how when he had been told his heritage by Maester Aemon; he had sworn in front of a weirwood tree that he would not be like the Blackfyres and try to claim what belonged to the trueborn heirs. The North would grumble about it but they would accept his reasoning. They all understood how sacred it was to swear in front of a weirwood tree. He would be affirming that he was his uncle's son and not his birth fathers if he did so. That would be the ideal solution to deal with the North but he wasn't just King in the North but King of all seven kingdoms and he had to win over the Riverlands and Vale on his marriage as well. Those Lords would not follow the Old Gods and would rebel at him letting his pagan religion dictate his decision making.

So what did he do? How did he frame it as anything but what it was? Him wanting to marry his Daenerys and share power with her as his equal as they were meant to be. How did he explain knowing that she was good without revealing that he was a warg, something that he wanted to avoid at any and all costs?

He was jarred out of his thoughts by the sound of a bird crowing. He looked up and standing on the windowsill was a raven, it's eyes staring emptily past him and at the wall. Jon rose from his seat and approached the bird, it did not react at all to his movements.

The bird was clearly well trained. He spotted the scroll tied to its leg and picked up the bird. The bird still did not react at all. If Jon hadn't heard it caw a moment earlier he might have mistaken it for being dead.

He removed the scroll that was sealed with a plain blue seal that could have come from anyone, it did not bear the coat of arms from anyone he recognized at all. He gave in to his curiosity and broke the seal. A silver coin clattered to the floor as he unrolled the scroll.

_Break the bird, and send it back. We have much more to discuss. We'll meet at 6 AM your time every morning._

_-A trusted source_

The letter was simple and to the point but it made one thing abundantly clear to Jon, whoever had sent this not only knew that he was a warg but had intimate knowledge of how they work. That was a terrifying thought that one of his enemies could know who he was and what he could do. He didn't want to do what the note said but if he didn't send the bird back then would his "trusted source" blab about his abilities?

Jon had to know who had sent it before he could act on it. There had been coin in the scroll that surely was meant to be a hint or at the very least misdirection of some kind by the sender and a clue as to who the sender was or at least the location of the sender. He bent down to pick up the coin and turned it over in his palm. It was a Meereenese honor.

There was only one person in Meereen who knew who Jon was and of his talents as a warg, Lord Varys. He knew Rhaegal was gone and wanted to have a way to inform Jon of the happenings of Meereen and any crucial information like the Whitehills planned betrayal.

Jon looked towards the bird intent on breaking it, to regain some knowledge of how his Daenerys was doing and how her city was doing without him there to protect it. He froze as the bird continued to stare at the wall, completely unmoving. It was as if the bird was already broken…

Things slid into place, that was how Varys had known about Jon's resurrection and heritage in spite of the blockade that had been in place. That was how Varys had learned of the Whitehills betrayal. That was how Varys always knew things so quickly. His little birds were literal birds. Varys knew Jon was a warg because he was one.

In hindsight perhaps it should have been obvious. Why had he been so arrogant to assume that he was the only one who thought to use wargs as a spy network? Varys was literally called the spider and he called all his sources, little birds yet he had never even considered the idea that the names were literal. He had assumed that only Northerners could be wargs, almost entirely just the wildlings but that was either wrong or Varys had some Northern blood of his own.

He had overlooked the most powerful ability of wargs despite using it to his advantage repeatedly. Wargs weren't just spies limited to what they overheard while they were being possessed. They were an instant messaging system with almost no risk of the message being intercepted. He had learned stuff from his Daenerys in Meereen and used it to his benefit. Varys had passed him a message and it had saved his life. If he had just sent a raven it never would have arrived in time.

Jon knew that one couldn't warg into dozens of animals at once and spy on people but Varys never needed to do that. He had informants positioned all across the known world and scheduled times where they would tell a bird in the privacy of their own homes the weekly or daily news. Varys simply had to warg at the right time and he would learn all that he needed to know. Just as he had planned on setting up with Jon as a little bird of his own.

The spider's web truly was expansive and almost foolproof. His sources would be considered insane if they admitted that they were paid to blab secrets to a bird on a regular basis so they would never reveal what he was. He had no comparable risk of his sources being caught because they were speaking to an animal with no risk of betrayal or need to meet publicly, and any prescheduled meeting, all he had to do was know about it beforehand and he could personally overhear all of it. He doubted that his informants even knew who the information they were providing was going too.

Jon would forever be grateful for Varys being on their side and not Cersei's. His plans would have completely unraveled if he worked for King Tommen still. He didn't trust Varys but he had no choice but to do so. If Varys didn't want Jon and Daenerys to rule then he had the information to stop them and they could have done nothing to stop it. All it would have took to cause Jon to fail in his endeavors at Last Hearth was a note to the Boltons tipping them off to Rhaegal, ditto for his plans at Riverrun. Varys at least for now was on their side and getting information from the spider himself was too big of a boon to pass up.

He sat down and scrawled out a quick letter and sealed it with the royal seal of House Targaryen before tying the note to the raven. He forced his way into the birds mind and commanded it. _Go back to where you've come from and deliver this message to the man who sent you. Don't forget to eat and sleep along the way._

The bird was broken and would follow his orders to the letter, it would have died of starvation without that command. The thing had no will of its own and the thoughts that Jon had implanted would be it's only thoughts. He watched as the bird took to the skies, en route back to Meereen and the Varys.

Perhaps, he would be able to see his Daenerys again even if he couldn't communicate with her. At the very least, Varys was sure to tell him of her reaction to his proposal when Jorah returned to Meereen. He would not be blind there at the very least like he would have been to his Daenerys's actions without Rhaegal by her side.

* * *

Jon sat in his chair at the front of the room as nearly a hundred of the Northern Lords sat on the other side of the room spread out among various tables across from him. Sansa was seated to his right and Rickon to her right. Technically, it was actually Jon at her left as her guest of honor and Rickon to her right as her family. since she was Lady of Winterfell but everyone knew that it Jon at the head of this.

He was pleased to see that almost every single Northern house had shown up, all of the Noble Houses at least. The Sakgosi clans were unsurprisingly no shows, and Houses Harclay and Knott had failed to come from the mountains although with the treacherous terrain and rough weather it was possible they just hadn't been able to get here in time. The only exceptions were the now-extinct Houses of Bolton and Hornwood. The latter had Ramsay as their Lord after he had forced Lady Donella into marriage before killing her. Every new thing that he heard about Ramsay made him wish that he had drawn out the monster's suffering.

Sansa stood from her chair to begin the meeting. "Thank you all for heeding the summons to Winterfell. As I'm sure you are all aware, my brother, Jon Snow has been revealed to be the son of Lyanna Stark and not the bastard of Lord Eddard like we previously believed. As he is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, he has a claim to the Iron Throne and he has asked us to gather here today to renew our oaths of fealty to Houses Stark and Targaryen. To reaffirm our loyalty to the crown. He has delivered us from the Boltons and returned the North to its rightful overlords."

"I ask that we all rise and welcome King Jon of Houses Stark and Targaryen. Rightful King of the Andals, the Rhyonar, and the First Men; Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. The unburnt, the resurrected one, and the Father of Dragons."

Jon had grumbled about doctoring his last title to mirror that of his Daenerys so closely at first but Sansa had sold him on it eventually. She had pointed out that calling himself the dragon, while accurate did not sound entirely sane. That by calling himself a dragon he was copying the Mad King and it would cast him in that same negative light. She had also helpfully pointed out that it was a hint to him being a warg of Rhaegal. She had agreed that they needed to have a title referencing his dragons and this had been her solution. This made him out as an equal to his Daenerys in just about every way. If he was just the rider of dragons he would be beneath her in that title. If he was just the dragon and she was the mother of dragons then he would be above her. They had to be on equal footing in all things for this sharing power thing to work. This also didn't look insane since he would be married to his Daenerys and would become their good-father at the very least and Rhaegal did consider him his father, and his best friend and literally him but in human form. Their bond was too complicated to explain easily.

Sansa retook her seat beside Jon as he and everyone else in the room stood up. Jon stepped up to the center of the room and gestured for everyone to sit. "I am King Jon of Houses Stark and Targaryen, the last living male Targaryen. I have called all of you here today to back my claim to the Iron Throne, and ask that you will fight on my behalf in the wars to come."

"I realize that when you swore yourself to my brother, King Robb you swore never to kneel to any southerner again. No stag, lion or dragon. You would only call a Stark your King from now on. I am not a Stark but a Snow, a bastard raised in the North. I have no claim to my brother's throne. He was your King, not I. By rights, it should be Sansa that is your Queen. My brother fought for Northern Independence and died for it. He fought so a Stark would rule the North. I was not a Stark."

"When the Boltons murdered my brother and his Queen at the Red Wedding, they stole his crown and killed all of the Lords who were present. Only one Lord survived, Lord Edmure Tully who until recently had been a captive of the Freys. He tells me that right before the Red Wedding, fearing what would happen to the North if he were to die in battle before his child could be born, he left a will. The document fell into the hands of the Boltons after the Red Wedding who destroyed it and all evidence of its existence. The seals of all the Lords witnessing his will can no longer prove what it said. All we know of his last will and testament is from the testimony of Lord Edmure Tully. I have brought him here now to tell us what he knows."

There were serious perks to having a dragon. He could bring Lord Edmure down to Winterfell from Riverrun and he would only be missed a few days. If he had to ride a horse down here then he wouldn't have been able to make it in time and he definitely wouldn't have returned by the time that Jon wanted to meet with the Riverlords to get their oaths as well. Rhaegal hadn't liked having Edmure on his back and Jon wouldn't make him do it more than strictly necessary but Jon legitimizing himself and claiming that was Robb's will would be a disaster. Edmure was needed here so with Jon there to calm him, he had consented and let a terrified Edmure ride in a carriage that he carried with shackles around his feet. Jon wasn't about to trust Edmure to ride behind him where one push could send Jon falling to his death. Also, Rhaegal didn't want to be any closer to Edmure's tainted blood than necessary.

Edmure stepped into the room and walked to the center of it with his head held high. "I spent the eight months as a captive of the Freys after the Red Wedding until King Jon freed me when his dragon ended the siege on my home. I swore my loyalty to King Robb and was there when he gave his last will and testament. I realize that as the sole living witness but to the last will and testament of King Robb, the first of his name, I have no evidence that what I say is the truth but I swear it on the grave of my sister, the Lady Stark that all that I say here today is true."

"King Robb was concerned that if he were to fall in battle, the Kingdom would fall with him. After his decision to marry the Queen Talisa Maegyr he knew he was losing the war. He refused to allow that to happen so he set a will for who would rule after him, at least until his possible heir came of age. The King was under the impression that Bran, Rickon, and Arya Stark were dead when he made his decree."

"King Robb declared his will in front of Lord Jon Umber, the elder, Lord Galbart Glover, Lord Jason Mallister, Lady Maege Mormont, Lady Catelyn Tully and myself, Lord Edmure Tully. We all heard his decree and all of us but my sister fixed out seals to his decree."

"King Robb asked that in the event of his untimely death the following to be carried out," Edmure took a deep breath and glanced over at Sansa. "King Robb declared that Sansa Stark was to be stricken from all claims belonging to her and be cast out as a Stark."

There was always going to be grumbling about that part and he was unsurprised when people began to quietly mutter to themselves and each other. They all looked at Sansa differently and were wondering why she was seated at the head of the table as Lady of Winterfell now. As they would continue to do so.

"Furthermore, King Robb declared that in the event of his untimely death, before he had an heir of his own that he hereby freed the bastard Jon Snow from his vows to the Night's Watch and legitimized him as Jon Stark. He declared that he was to be his heir and the King in the North after him."

Jon immediately stood up as Edmure took a seat to the right of Rickon. The crowd was muttering loudly now and no doubt thought this was a conspiracy on his part. He sent Rhaegal a mental request to roar and he did just that, his screeches shaking the earth. Everyone immediately fell silent at the tone. Jon smiled, there were perks to being a dragon. Rhaegal watching through Jon's eyes, was laughing at how easily he could silence the grumblers. Jon couldn't stop himself from grinning at the dragon's amusement.

"I know what Edmure has said today sounds too convenient to be true. I know there is no evidence supporting the will's existence. To the best of my knowledge, it is true, but I can not prove that fact to any of you."

"I will not expect you or anyone else to follow through on Robb's will since it was made under false pretenses. Robb believed that Rickon, and Arya Stark were dead when that was clearly not the case. Robb at the time when he gave his will, still believed me to be the bastard of our father. He believed that I was his brother by blood; as much as I wish that I was, I am not a Stark. Robb legitimized the bastard son of our father, not the bastard son of Rhaegar Targaryen. I cannot claim that he would have done the same had he known who my sire was."

Jon bit his lip to hide his smile as Lord Robett Glover rose to his feet. He was beaten to whatever he planned to say when the young and fierce Lyanna Mormont spoke first. "I can't claim to know why King Robb named you as his heir but he did. He wasn't the only one either, my Uncle Jeor chose you to carry the Mormont family sword on your hip, you didn't have his blood but he still chose you to succeed him as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."

"I don't care if Jon Stark was born a bastard of Lord Eddard Stark or Lady Lyanna Stark. He has the blood of the Stark and the character of a Stark. My Uncle and King Robb did not name Jon as their heir because of his blood. They did it because they believed in who he was. They believed that he was a good man like his father. When the Boltons killed King Robb and took over the North it was Jon Stark who killed them and gave the north back to the Starks. If he used a dragon to do it, so what? House Mormont remembers what Jon Stark did for the North in its hour of need when no one else would answer the call. I don't care whose blood flows through his veins. Jon Stark is my King until his last day."

Lord Glover stood once more but this time it was Howland Reed who spoke first. "I was there with your father when you were born, Your Grace, I and your father were the only survivors of our conflict against the Kingsguard who were holding Lady Lyanna captive. Your father, emerged from the tower with you in his arms and swore me to secrecy on who your true parents were. He said that Lyanna had begged him to protect you even though you were born of Rhaegar's seed. Ned loved you as a son, and raised you as his own bastard to protect you from Robert. He wanted you to have an inheritance and the best for you even if he couldn't be the one to give it to you. Lyanna wanted the same. I can't say how your brother would have reacted if he knew who your true parents were but I can say that if Ned was still alive he would gladly bend the knee to you, and call you his King. House Reed will follow in his footsteps and proclaim Jon Stark as their King."

Lord Glover was once again beaten to the punch as this time it was Lord Ethan Marsh who stood first. "My uncle participated in the mutiny that left you grievously injured, Your Grace, I can only ask your forgiveness for the crimes of my House and accept any punishment that you wish to extract upon us." He apologized. " Regardless of what you decide, House Marsh stood with Robb Stark and we will continue to do so. We stand with his heir, Jon Stark, and are proud to call him our King."

Jon forced a smile. "There is nothing to forgive. You were not the one to kill me, I do not hold sons accountable for the sins of their fathers nor do I hold you accountable for your uncle's crimes."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Lord Marsh said with a bow before retaking his seat.

Lord Robett Glover shot out of his chair to his feet but was again beaten to the punch by the Smalljon this time. He angrily sat back down banging his fist on the table as he did so.

"The Umbers remained loyal to the Starks when everyone else forgot who their King was. We kept Rickon safe at Last Hearth even well we marched in their army with the intent of betraying them and installing Rickon Stark as King in the North. I have no doubt that Rickon Stark would make a great King but he's not the heir my King chose. My King chose Jon Stark as his heir. My father was the first to hail Robb Stark as King in the North and I will do the same to his heir. House Umber Hails Jon Stark, The King in the North!" He thrust his sword up into the air and dropped to his knees before Jon.

The rest of the room was quick to echo his sentiments, probably encouraged by Rhaegal's conveniently timed roar. This was how things were meant to be, the sheep bowed before a dragon. He was King and they would treat him as he was. His eyes narrowed when he spotted the one figure not yet kneeling.

Lord Robett Glover didn't kneel but instead climbed up on the table. "Fuck That!" He screamed out. "Jon Snow is not the son of Lord Eddard Stark. Jon Snow is the son of a fucking Targaryen. He is the byproduct of the rape of Lyanna Stark at the hands of Rhaegar Fucking Targaryen. King Robb Stark did not legitimize Rhaegar's bastard as King in the North. He is not the King in the North!"

Had they underestimated Lord Glover? He couldn't interrupt him not without looking weak and insecure, he couldn't arrest or kill him here either. He was protected by guests right so he had to let him speak freely. It was his choice whether to side with or against Jon, not Jon's. How many would Lord Glover sway away from his cause?

"He is the King of all of fucking Westeros!" He roared with a laugh. "King Robb legitimized Jon Snow and made him a trueborn son. King Robb made Jon fucking Snow legitimately Jon Targaryen, and the rightful King of all the Seven Kingdoms!" He declared with a stomp of his feet, and Jon smiled in relief at the change in direction. He knew that when the Smalljon had proclaimed him as King so empathetically, it was not just of the North and they really meant King from the North but if Lord Glover was allowing him to be a Targaryen in fulness, then he would not deny him that.

"Rhaegar Targaryen thought that when he raped Lyanna Stark, he was stealing the greatest beauty in the whole world from the North. He thought that he had won. All he was doing was handing the North the Iron Throne!" Cheers of agreement rung out around the room at his statement.

"I say we make Lyanna's sacrifice worth something! I say that we give Rhaegar Targaryen one last fuck you from beyond the grave. The blood of the Starks flows through the veins of Jon Snow. He might have the blood of the dragon but his mother was a Stark. He was raised as a Stark. He is not Rhaegar Targaryen! We swore to never bow down to any southerner again but Jon Snow is of the North. House Glover says fuck Rhaegar Targaryen and hails Jon Targaryen, a Stark and King of the Seven Kingdoms!" He thrust his sword up in the air with a shout.

The rest of the room mirrored his actions once more and this time truly everyone was screaming out; "Jon Targaryen, King of the Seven Kingdoms," in unison. Jon allowed himself to smile. One Kingdom was his, and they had played things exactly as he wanted. They had chosen to call him a Targaryen and not him, now it wouldn't look like he was rejecting his Stark side when he referred to himself as a Targaryen because they had approved of him being a Targaryen in such a public manner. He knew he couldn't claim the Iron Throne as just a Stark. Even if his Daenerys would be okay with it he would not be able to rise a wolf up to be an equal to a dragon.

He let them chant for a moment longer before asking Rhaegal to roar once more and held his hands out asking for silence. It took another moment but soon every voice had died out and was looking to him for further direction.

"Before you crown me as your King, I must inform you that I do not plan on leaving the world as it is. I want to build a new and better world where everyone is truly free. A world where we are no longer bound by the abhorrent traditions of the south. I plan on building a world where men and women are equal in all things. I plan to build a world where women from this day forth have a place in the line of succession equal to that of a man. I plan on building a world where women are no longer sold into abusive marriages like my sister was sold to Ramsay Bolton." Jon declared knowing that this was inevitable and would not be an easy thing for them to hear. Breaking the wheel was never going to be easy but it would happen.

Some of the men began to grumble but Jon ignored them. "I do not plan on usurping the positions of any existing Lords in favor of their elder sister. Only the succession crises that occurs from this day forth. I understand that men do not want to give their lands over to other houses and I sympathize with them in that regard and will not force them to do so. Any noble-women who chooses to marry a noble-born husband must agree to give up any claim to the lands of their house when they do so, or their husband must agree that they and their children will take the woman's name or else they will be removed from the line of succession."

"Deepwood Motte will stay as the land of the Glovers, in spite of Lady Erena being the heir now, regardless of who she marries. Oldcastle will remain the land of the Lockes, in spite of Lady Taria now being at the front of the succession line. No woman will be forced into a marriage against her will by anyone to take her claim from her. She will only marry when she chooses to do so."

"With all due respect, this is madness, Your Grace," Lord Serf Lightfoot protested. "A woman is not fit to govern a household. A woman is not capable of properly choosing her own husband. Women are empty-headed and their decisions are too often ill-made based on their girlish feelings." Many men around the room were nodding in agreement with his statements.

Jon would have replied with a scathing rebuke but he was beaten to the punch by a number of women. Lyanna Mormont was once again the first to respond. "House Mormont has been ruled by a woman for the last twenty years and we still stand strong and were among the first to pledge ourselves to call King Jon our King. We have proven that a woman is just as capable as any man and more capable than some men even, when it comes to ruling a household. I stand with my King in this, let women have their place."

Gwyn Whitehill, who he had appointed as Lady of the House when he executed her elder brother stood and spoke next. "I was one of those women who did not have the freedom to choose who their husband was. I tried to choose Asher Forrester and he was banished by his father for it. My elder brother tried to sell me off to horrible men as nothing more than a whore to give him more power. King Jon killed my brother for his attempts to betray him and named me as head of House Whitehill. If King Jon wants to stop other women from suffering as I have, to stop other men from being punished for loving the wrong person then I will support him wholeheartedly."

"You can not say that my lackwitted daughter has a right to inherit the lands that will go to my son!" Lord Rickard Fenn shouted in outrage. "My House stands to grow by marrying my daughter to another Lord. You are taking the lands we could have gotten away from us. I choose to do what benefits my house the most as it's Lord as all the Lords have done before me, and I will continue to do so. That is my lawful right as Lord of House Fenn, I choose what my daughter does not her."

Jon's hands clenched into fists at his side as men nodded and murmured their agreement. He had to remain calm and in control. "Maester Wolkan, can you tell me what the definition of a slave is according to the citadel?" He asked the kind new Maester who had replaced Marwyn after he was murded by Theon Turncloak.

The Maester was slightly taken aback by the request out of the blue but answered anyways. "Of course, Your Grace, the citadel defines slavery as a person who is lawful property of another, and that person is forced to obey them..." His response slowed as he realized Jon's angle but he gave the answer Jon wanted anyway.

Jon grinned ferally. "Tell me, Lord Fenn did you just confess to having slaves? Slavery was outlawed in Westeros long ago, yet I can't help but find the way you described your relationship with your daughter sounding very similar to what the citadel defines as slavery. I would tread very carefully, my lord, slavery is punishable by death or the Wall in Westeros and you just confessed to having a slave. Perhaps, you would like to recant your statement about controlling your daughter?"

Lord Fenn flustered. "O-of course, Your Grace, I misspoke I only meant to say that shouldn't it be my right to decide who inherits my house?"

"The laws of Westeros have never worked that way," Sansa answered for him. "If that was the case it would be a Blackfyre who had been King for the last a hundred years. If that was the case than Rhaenrya Targaryen would have been Queen. If that was the case, Brynden Tully would be Lord of Riverrun. Joffrey Baratheon would have never become King. Lands have always gone to the eldest son, if we are to make men and women equal, then the eldest should always inherit unless they voluntarily abdicate their claims to the lands."

Sansa standing with him was the final nail in the coffin to their stupid arguments. "Westeros claims to not have any slaves, we claim to be better than Essos and truly a free land. We are only lying to ourselves so we can feel morally surperior. While I was married to Ramsay Bolton, I was his slave. He controlled everything I did and I had no choice of my own. I was forced into that marriage and raped repeatedly by him. He didn't let me tell him no, he wouldn't let me leave my room, he wouldn't let me eat some nights and other times would make me eat and sleep with his dogs. I was his slave. I had no choice but to be married to him and because of that, the Boltons gained control of Winterfell."

"Robb was right to disinherit me to stop the North from falling into the wrong hands but he shouldn't have needed to do that. He shouldn't have needed to worry about my husband stealing Winterfell because I never should have been able to be forced into such a position. Jon wants to make women equal but ending arranged marriages is something that should be done regardless or else our lands can easily be stolen from us when you're the one on the wrong end of the arrangement. The practice is barbaric slavery that only hurts everyone involved." She said with a well-practiced grace.

This time no one had anyone to say in response, it was only when Jon stood to move onto the next item on the docket that the Smalljon leaped to his feet. "What Lady Sansa is saying makes sense, there was a time when forced weddings benefitted us all but that time has passed. The Red Wedding happened because King Robb was forced into a marriage agreement, the Boltons took the North because of an arranged marriage agreement. All these forced marriages have done for the North in recent times was hurt us. I say it is time for the North to move past this southern tradition and follow King Jon into the new world. Lady Sansa has proven an apt Hand of the King and perhaps Northern women are truly cut out to lead. Let the North usher in a new era for Westeros! A Free world! An equal world!"

Rhaegal let out a roar in agreement overhead. His Daenerys was a better leader then every man. He knew it was just the Smalljon being opportunistic and trying to curry favor with him but his few words did more for his goal than anything the women had said as he himself was a man. No one said anything more in protest after that statement although there were very few nods of agreement. He wondered how much the lack of protest had to do with fear of the very vocal dragon. Probably most of it, regardless he would take what he had been given.

"I thank you all for your support and willingness to be pioneers in the new world." He intentionally neglected to mention that Dorne had women as equal in the line of inheritance for generations. The Northern Lords were a prideful bunch and they would want to boast about this, that they were the first to do so even if they hated it.

"Before we proceed onto the southern matters we must first deal with the North. My brother and predecessor, King Robb disinherited Sansa Stark on the false assumption that she was married to Tyrion Lannister. As both of them refused to consummate their marriage, the marriage was not legally binding and was mutually agreed that it would be annulled."

"I am of the opinion that since the reasoning behind her being disinherited is not valid, the decree should be considered invalid but it would be unfair for me to make the decision on this matter on my own. This decision does not affect Sansa's position as my hand but as she would be Warden of the North if she is to remain a Stark, my sister and I both insist that it should be up to the Lords of the North to decide if Sansa is too remain a Stark or if Robb's will should be followed to the letter and Arya be named as Lady of Winterfell."

Surprisingly enough, the decision to leave the verdict on Sansa's status up to the Northern Lords had been proposed by Sansa herself when she learned of Robb's will. The Boltons hadn't given the North any choice but to comply with their demands so by offering them that freedom she was providing them with the certainty that they would have a say in the affairs of the North; something they all desired and Jon had no problem giving them. The illusion of choice was a powerful tool as Jon very well knew.

"I am for Lady Sansa remaining a Stark, she has proven herself loyal to her family and the North. If King Robb was still alive, he would gladly welcome her back into his family." Lord Glover declared.

The Smalljon was unsurprisingly the next one to speak up. "If my King thinks that Sansa Stark is the right choice to be his hand then I will trust his judgment and proudly call her a Stark. King Robb thought that she had been married to the imp and acted on that knowledge but his knowledge was faulty. I am all for naming Sansa Stark as the Warden of the North." Jon resisted the urge to openly laugh at Lord Glover and the Smalljons constant need to one-up each other as his most loyal vassal.

Lord Dillon Overton threw his support behind Sansa as well, as did Lady Beth Cassell with a chuckle about how Arya would have begged them to make Sansa be the lady in her place.

"I think we have all come to an accord here," Jon said with a small smile. "Since we are in agreement, I would like to turn things back over to the Lady of Winterfell, and Warden of the North, Sansa Stark to deal with the rest of the business strictly relevant to the North before we address the matters that are relevant to all of the Seven Kingdoms."

Jon retook his seat and Sansa rose to her own feet. "On behalf of the entire North, I extend our warmest gratitude to King Jon for coming to our aid in our time of troubles." Jon flushed as there was some light applause for him.

"I would also like to honor House Umber for keeping the young Lord Rickon Stark safe in their own home until we could retrieve him." Once again there was some applause and cheers of agreement with that statement. "The North also recognizes and honors House Slate, Mormont, and the new Lady of House Whitehill for being the only ones to answer the call to arms in our darkest hour and stand with our King and House Stark against the Boltons." The cheers were loudest at that remark although some of the Lords glowered at being called out for their cowardice.

"With the death of Lord Harald Karstak during the Massacre at Last Hearth, the Karkhold is currently without a Lord. As the only living child of the former Lord, by rights, Lady Alys Karstak is named as Lady of the Karkhold." Sansa declared.

"Why should the Karstaks keep their land? They are all a bunch of traitors who chose to side with the Boltons, their lands should be given to those who remained loyal to their King, to those who answered the call." The Smalljon grumbled and received shouts in agreement.

"My brother and I both agree that we will not hold a child accountable for their father's sins. If we did that then rather than crowning King Jon we would be executing him for the crimes of Rhaegar Targaryen and Aerys Targaryen. Moreover, we both agree that ignorance is not a sin. We have forgiven every other Lord who stood with the Boltons against Jon, unknowing of his heritage and Robb's will. Alys Karstak did not choose to back the Boltons, that was her father. The Karstaks have served the Starks faithfully for hundreds of years and we would not erase all the good will we have built up over the years of service because one Lord was a fool. Lady Alys Karstak will be the Lady of the Karkhold from this day until the end of her days or the day she once again breaks faith with House Stark."

Sansa cleared her throat and moved on. "With the eradication of House Bolton, and the death of all it's members both trueborn and natural the Dreadfort is now without a clear claimant who should inherit the lands that once belonged to their house. Under the old rules of inheritance, there are a number of possible claimants to the Boltons lands."

"Lady Barbrey Dustin as the eldest sister to the first wife of Lord Roose Bolton, and mother to the Lord of House Boltons firstborn son has a claim to the lands belonging to the former Lord of the Dreadfort. However, my brother and I while we will forgive, we refuse to award treachery and House Dustin stood with House Bolton against King Jon so she will not inherit the lands. As his most recent wife, Lady Walda Frey has a claim to the lands but due to the actions of her and her house in the Red Wedding, they will not be allowed to inherit any lands in the North ever again."

"As the wife of the former heir, I would have a claim to the Boltons lands as well. However, I have a responsibility as both Hand of the King and the Lady of Winterfell that would make me an ineffective ruler if I tried to add more duties to my plate. I would rather the Boltons land goes to someone who can show the dedication required to rule such a large household."

"I propose that we give the lands to Ser Marlon Manderly. The Manderlys have long been one of House Stark's most loyal supporters, and they refused to march with the Boltons against King Jon. My father often spoke highly of the Manderlys and they were among his most trusted bannerman. They had as many losses as anyone else at the Red Wedding and Lady Donella Manderly was tortured and killed by Ramsay Bolton. They are owed reparations from the Boltons and they will have it in the form of the Bolton lands."

That had been almost entirely Sansa's idea to give the Dreadfort to the Manderlys. Initially, Sansa had wanted to give the Dreadfort to the Glovers and the Hornwood to the Manderlys to secure the loyalty of the two most powerful Northern Houses to their cause but Jon had put his foot down. A son of Lord Halys Hornwood still lived, even if it was a bastard. Jon knew they couldn't make bastards equal in the line of succession until after the Long Night had ended and he and his Daenerys were seated on the Iron Throne, but he would be dammed if he let the wife's House inherit before the bastard of the Lord who the land belonged too. Sansa had decided that they would give the Dreadfort to whichever of Glover and Manderly was less supportive of him to get their loyalty and gratitude, likely the latter but the former was in theory, an option, depending on how the meeting had played out. Lord Manderly was the obvious choice at this point in the meeting.

"Why should the Manderlys inherit the Dreadfort?" Lord Rickard Ironsmith grumbled. "My father and brother also died at the Red Wedding and we refused to answer the Boltons call to arms. The Manderlys already hold White Harbor, give the Dreadfort to us. We are just as loyal as they are to the Starks, more so even."

There were nods and shouts in agreement with those who felt that they were being unfair by giving the Dreadfort to the Manderlys and they were right to feel that way. It was unfair and wrong that the Manderlys be given more land just because they were more powerful but Jon needed their support and this was an easy way to secure it. He wanted to break the wheel but the wheel wouldn't stop spinning just because he told it too. If he had given the lands to the Mormonts as he wanted to then he might have slowed the wheel but slowing something didn't break it. The wheel would break it because he spun it hard enough that it fell apart. He just had to use the wheel to break it. That meant giving the powerful more power for the time being.

Sansa easily quelled the crowd. "My Lords, House Manderly has been loyal to the Starks for a thousand years and has served them in perpetuity. House Ironsmith stayed loyal against the Boltons, yes, but they have not served the Starks for even a quarter of that length. We are not rewarding the Manderlys for their short term loyalty to us against the Boltons but for a thousand years of support to my father, King Robb, King Jon, and all of their ancestors. Loyalty is only rewarded when it is proven true through multiple storms, not one troublesome incident where they answered the call. House Manderly has weathered every storm and still remained loyal even when Torrhen Stark chose to kneel to Aegon Targaryen. They stood with the Starks in both victory and defeat. That is the kind of loyalty that garners reward, the kind that lasts thousands of years and still rings true to this day. Loyalty is not showing up for one battle, but for being there when House Stark needed them for hundreds of years."

There was no vocal protest after Sansa's passionate speech on behalf of Lord Wyman Manderly who puffed at her statement with pride. "House Manderly is honored by your kind words, Lady Stark. I thank you on behalf of my cousin for our new lands, and House Manderly promises to stand with House Stark, for another thousand years."

Sansa nodded. "We thank you for that, Lord Manderly. Ramsay Bolton was the Lord of the Hornwood after he raped, married and murdered Lady Donella Hornwood. The Lord before Ramsay Bolton was a good man and loyal to the Starks. Lord Halys Hornwood died in service to my brother at the battle of the Green Fork, and his heir, Daryn Hornwood died at the hands of the Kingslayer in the battle of the Whispering Wood while serving in King Robb's personal guard."

"House Hornwood does not deserve to have their house end with Ramsay Bolton as the head of their line. Halys Hornwood should not have his loyal service to the Starks rewarded with his house being given away to someone who he shares no blood with. He died for the Starks and it would be an unforgivable betrayal if we gave his land away for his sacrifice. King Jon has agreed to legitimize the bastard of Halys Hornwoods seed, Larence Snow as Larence Hornwood, Lord of the Hornwood provided that he swears fealty to Houses Stark and Targaryen. Halys Hornwood was a good honorable man and his house should live on beyond him."

"I agree!" Lord Glover was quick to shout out. "Halys and Daryn served their King faithfully until the very end and they would not want to have their name die. Larence is just as honorable as his father and brother and will do them proud as Lord of the Hornwood." They had expected Lord Glover to support that decision, hence why it was the Manderlys who were their first choice to inherit the Dreadfort. Galbart Glover had fostered Larence Snow at Deepwood Motte and Lord Robett was close friends with Larence Snow. He had even journeyed with Lord Glover here today to the summit that Jon had called, likely expecting or at least hoping for this exact scenario.

"My cousin was never fond of her husband's bastard, but she loved her husband and House Hornwood. She wouldn't want her house to die with his death. I think that given the circumstances, she would want to legitimize Larence Snow as Lord Hornwood." Wyman Manderly added. It was a wad of codswallop or else Robb would have named him Lord of the Hornwood when Daryn first died but this is what Jon and Sansa had been hoping for. Giving the Dreadfort to the Manderlys meant that they had no problems with giving up the smaller land that belonged to the Hornwoods. Without the promise of the Dreadfort, Donella having been the Lady Hornwood and a Manderly would have made Lord Wyman contest the claim of Larence Snow to the Hornwood, wanting it for himself. He had been given something better and he wouldn't push his luck by demanding more, instead opting to support them in what they decided to remind them of his loyalty.

After they had the Manderlys backing on the decision to name Larence Snow as Lord of the Hornwood, there was bound to be no protest to the matter. The Manderlys had the best claim outside of Larence and had chosen to support Larence, no one else could have a chance in gaining the lands for themselves.

Sansa realizing there was no one who was going to say anything more, looked to Jon and nodded who rose to stand beside her. It was time to hear the wind blow.

"Now, I ask you this, Lord Amber, will you renew your oaths of fealty to Houses Stark and Targaryen? Will you swear to remain loyal to Houses Stark and Targaryen in perpetuity, observe your homage to both houses in all matters, and swear to never seek to do any member of either house harm without just cause?" Jon asked.

Lord Amber nodded and rose before stepping forward to take Jon's hands as tradition mandated. "I swear it," He vowed.

Jon forced a smile. "Then as a head of House Targaryen, and King of the Seven Kingdoms, I promise that I will protect you, govern you fairly, and never seek to do your house harm without just cause." He squeezed his hands and then let go with Lord Amber moving down the line to Sansa who was standing beside him and gripped her hands.

"As the head of House Stark, I promise that I will protect you, govern you fairly, and never seek to do your house harm without just cause." Sansa echoed. She let go of Lord Ambers hands and he retook his seat at a table.

"Lord Ashwood, will you renew your oaths of fealty to Houses Stark and Targaryen? Will you swear to remain loyal to Houses Stark and Targaryen in perpetuity, observe your homage to both houses in all matters, and swear to never seek to do any member of either house harm without just cause?" He asked once more and on and on the ceremony went with each and every Lord present, agreeing to swear fealty to both of Jon's houses in perpetuity. It was tedious but it was necessary that they all swear it individually. Words were just wind but words sworn in public were some deterrent to breaking them, being branded as a liar and an oathbreaker was not something any Lord wanted to be named as.

At last, all their oaths were dealt with, including those of the new Lord Hornwood. Now Jon had to move onto what was sure to be the most complicated items on their list for the day. Typically, oaths of fealty were the final step in a meeting but Jon had needed to have their fealty first before he shared more important news. Namely, the marriage agreement that had him sharing power equally with his Daenerys Targaryen. He was sure they'd all jump with joy at that news. Oh and the fact that he wanted them to accept the wildlings settling on this side of the wall. After that, he only had to convince them all that the others were real and they needed to be prepared to fight a monster from a children's book. He definitely expected no difficulty explaining that to them. Perhaps, he should do the last part first since it would in part explain his reasoning for those decisions.

Sansa retook her seat and Jon stepped forward once again. "I'm afraid now that the more pleasant matters are out of the way, we must move onto the war. We must discuss our true enemy."

"The Lannisters!" Someone yelled out from the crowd. "The Freys!" Another voice cried out. A roar from Rhaegal silenced them.

Jon shook his head sadly. "The Lannisters aren't our ally, nor are the Freys but they are not the true enemy. The true enemy lies north of the wall. The Others are stirring, and the army of the dead vastly outnumbers our own."

"Your Grace, I fear your time at the wall has you seeing ghosts. The Others are a fairy tale made up to scare children. The army of the dead isn't real, the dead stay dead." Lord Long said quietly and received many nods in agreement to Jon's anger.

Jon scowled and cut him off. "Look outside." He snapped. "There is a dragon flying over your head, and you dare to lecture me on what is real?" He scoffed and walked over to the fireplace sticking his hand in and pulling out a lump of coal. He clenched the coal in his fist and held it up to their inspection. "I can not be hurt by fire but you try to claim that magic doesn't exist?"

He ripped open his vest, exposing his naked chest to their gaze prompting gasps as they spied the marks that marred his upper body for the first time, with the exception of the ones who had already seen his scars. "I died. I have a hole in my heart but you try to claim that the dead can't live. I walked out of my funeral pyre, alive and unharmed but the dead can not live. Just because you want it to be true, does not mean that it is true, the dead live and they are coming for us all. Magic exists in the world again, and there is no denying that. If magic can bring me back to life then the Others can re-animate corpses for their army."

"I saw the Others and their army of the dead with my own eyes at Hardhome. I killed an Other with the Mormont family sword. The Others are real and more numerous than all the forces in the North. If we do not have unity with the south when they arrive, we will all die."

"When I first learned of my heritage, I had no intention of claiming the throne for myself." _He had planned on claiming it for his Daenerys as a dragon in her employ._ "It was only once I saw the Others at Hardhome with their army of at least two-hundred thousand wights, that I realized the Seven Kingdoms needed to be united to stand against them." _That part wasn't a lie either, even if the order he said things implied that he knew about his heritage before he saw the Others._

"As Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, I let the Free Folk move south of the wall and settle in the gift. Not because of the love I had for the Free Folk, or because I wanted an army but because I understood that the real threat was the Others. I moved them south of the wall, because if I had left them beyond the wall, they would have just been more soldiers in the Great Other's army, and our odds of victory would have been that much slimmer."

"It doesn't matter that the Free Folk have been at odds with the North for generations, we have to band together to survive. I will never forgive the Lannisters for executing my father and for murdering my siblings. I will never forgive the Freys for the Red Wedding. I could have murdered every Lannister at Last Hearth but they are not my enemy, they should be punished for their crimes but every man I kill is one less on our side when the Long Night comes."

"I'm asking you to kneel to a Targaryen, in spite, of what Rhaegar did to my mother, and, in spite, of what the Mad King did to Brandon and Rickard. If we are not united we will all die when winter comes. If we do not have control of the south when winter arrives, we will lose in the great war. Make no mistake, our choices are to band together with both the Free Folk and the South and live, or stand-alone and die. To stand alone and watch our families die out because we were too prideful to accept that we needed help."

"It won't be easy to defeat an army that so vastly outnumbers us, even with the help of dragons. We probably will lose regardless of what we do, but we can give them a damn good fight if we all work together. I'm not asking you to fight the Others as your King. I'm asking you to fight them as a fellow Northerner who just wants to live."

"Whether you choose to believe in them or not, they do exist. Whether you want to put me on the throne and unite all of Westeros under the Targaryen banner so that you can claim a Northerner sits on the Iron Throne and secretly think I'm as mad as my grandfather, if you fight for me for vengeance, or if you believe in the Others, I don't care why you support me. All I care about is that you choose to fight for me both now, and when the time comes that we all need to fight for life itself."

"Your Grace," Lord Woolfield spoke up. "The Wall has repelled the others for hundreds of thousands of years, surely you can't expect it to fall now. What the Others do north of the wall is none of our concern. Let the Night's Watch deal with the Others as they always have. The North should focus on the Lannisters and Freys."

Jon walked over to Lord Woolfield and looked him directly in the eye. "How do you expect five hundred men of the Night's Watch to stand against two-hundred thousand? The Wall has held them back in the past, aye, but times are changing. Dragons have returned to the world, Targaryens no longer burn, and dead men can live again. I alone can prove all of those things, and I'm sure if you looked you could find other impossible things in the world. Myths are no longer myths but a reality. The Others slumbered for eons but now they are awake and active, they will move on the wall and I am almost completely certain that the wall will fall at some point in the not so distant future. The Others aren't mindless slaves but intelligent beings who can strategize. They will find a way through the wall, and if we are not properly prepared then they will kill us all."

He took a step back from Lord Woolfield and addressed the rest of the hall. "If there is even a small chance that the wall falls, are we willing to gamble all of our lives on that chance? I'm not willing to risk the end of us all by ignoring the greatest threat to the North. There is a chance that they never come. I might be written about in the history books as a Mad King who believed in myths and legends, who prepared for a war that would never come but at least that would mean there would be history books. I am not willing to risk all of our lives by refusing to believe and do everything in my power, and then some to stop this possible cataclysmic threat. If there's a chance that I'm right, and we refuse to act then we are dooming us all. I won't do that, regardless of the personal cost. We must do everything in our power to stop this threat."

"My Uncle died because he believed in the Others, that there was a greater threat to the North than the wildlings. I believe in my King and if he claims that there are truly ice monsters lurking beyond the wall, I'll believe him. House Mormont swore to stand with King Jon from this day until his last day. This is no exception, House Mormont will stand with our King in the war against death and will fight for life, no matter the cost." Lyanna Mormont declared in support of Jon. Jon grinned, her support was truly highly valued, even when he had yet to offer her anything in return.

"Aye, House Manderly also swore fealty to King Jon and will not break that vow today or ever. If there is even a chance that the King speaks true then we must be prepared. House Manderly will fight not for the North, but for the living." Lord Manderly pledged.

"I say fuck the dead! Let's send them back beneath the ground where they belong. Let's show them why they don't come south of the wall. Let's make those icy bastards run back over the wall, desperate to escape our King who has a fucking dragon. Let them slumber for another hundred thousand years in fear of the North! I say we fight for life and show those pale fuckers who owns the North!" Lord Glover shouted and got many cheers in agreement.

"Your Grace," Lord Quagg called out over the shouting Lord Glover had started with his passionate declaration of war on the Others. "In the legends, the Others are unkillable by blade or steel, you claimed that you killed one. How? Are the legends wrong?"

"There are two known methods to kill an Other and a third method that can kill their dead men, wights. The first method is to use dragonglass, the Maesters tend to refer to it as obsidian. I don't know where we can find larger quantities of it but we found a small stash buried at the fist of the first men. One of the brothers of the Night Watch used it to slay an Other."

"The second method is Valyrian Steel which I discovered by complete happenstance when I used to slay an Other at Hardhome. Normal blades shatter when they come into contact with and Other but Valyrian Steel and dragonglass will instead cause them to shatter. Fire can also kill the wights but has no effect on the Others."

"Then it's a good thing we have a dragon," The Smalljon laughed.

"I won't lie and claim that the battle will be easy but I thank you for standing with me as we face impossible odds. I thank you for listening to reason and agreeing that we must do whatever it takes to defeat the Others."

"What must be done will not be pleasant, but it is necessary. As your King, I hereby decree that every deadman will have their bodies burned from this day until the day the Great Other is defeated." Murmurs broke out protesting his decision but another perfectly and coincidentally well-timed roar from Rhaegal silenced them.

"I know the North likes to bury their dead and honor them by visiting their graves but that is no longer an option. Any dead man buried in our homes is one more soldier that the Great Other has in his army and if we choose to give him extra hundred-thousand men out of respect to the dead then we will all join them as dead and there will be no one left to respect us. I am not asking you to forget your dead, you can still remember them without their bones. I am telling you that you will burn all of your dead or else your house will pay for any damage done by your dead as if it was done by yourself. Anyone who is found burying their dead will be guilty of conspiring to commit treason and will be punished accordingly. This is not a request but an order."

"On a brighter note, I must inform you all that I have agreed to a marriage agreement to Daenerys Targaryen to legitimize my claim and to share the Throne with her in exchange for her army and dragons in the wars to come."

"Have you lost your mind?" Lord Robett Glover shouted. "She's the Mad King's daughter! You cannot give her power!" Many other voices echoed similar sentiments but that was the one that Jon locked onto.

Jon asked Rhaegal to roar once more to take some of the wind out of the crowd and he did as asked with a laugh. "Was it not you, Lord Glover, who claimed that I was not Rhaegar Targaryen? She is not her father either. Her father was dead before she was ever born, she was raised by Ser Willem Darry, an honorable man by all accounts for most of her youth. She is not her father nor is she her brother just like I'm not my sire." Jon explained perfectly calm.

"She was married to a savage Dothraki horse lord in Essos, Your Grace. She sold her body for an army, surely you don't want to marry a foreign whore." Lord Mollen said quietly.

Jon couldn't contain his rage at his insult. "My Daenerys-" He cut himself off and forced himself to take a deep breath to calm himself before he said or did something he would regret. "Tell me, Lord Mollen, is my sister a whore?"

Lord Mollen blinked owlishly at the complete change of topic. "N-no, Your Grace,"

"Then Daenerys is not one either. She was forced to marry the Dothraki Khal by her brother who was very much her father's son. She did not choose to sell herself for an army but was forced to marry against her will like my sister was. If you think that being raped makes her a whore then you are also insulting the Lady Stark."

Lord Mollen did not have a response to that.

"Why marry her, Your Grace? It seems completely unnecessary." Lord Wyman Manderly asked.

"She offers me a legitimate claim to the Iron Throne-" Jon tried to explain,

"Your Grace, your brother legitimized you. You no longer need a marriage to her to be King." Lord Manderly tried to reason with him.

Jon hid his internal grin behind a scowl, he had taken the bait he had offered without any prompting. "You would have me break a marriage agreement after what happened when my brother broke his? And you dare to say I am the one who has lost my mind? My brother lost his Kingdom when he chose to back out on a betrothal he had agreed to. Yet you ask me to repeat his mistakes. It is you who have lost your mind."

"Daenerys is not the Freys but she also has two dragons at her disposal. Why should I risk her wrath and back out on our agreement? Daenerys Targaryen is the one who sent my dragon to me, that gave us victory at Last Hearth. If she was not to be trusted, she would have chained Rhaegal and let me die. She understands that the real threat lies beyond the wall. Our visions for the world align, we both want a free world, an equal world. She has ended slavery in Meereen and put all of their other barbaric practices to rest. She has got her Dothraki that follow her to do the same. She is not her father who does not care about the common folk or anyone but himself. She is good and has a heart for the weak and powerless. She is not the Mad Queen."

"We agreed to share power as equals, in part because we understand that the world will not survive another dance of the dragons right now. Another part of it was because our visions for the world aligned. The primary reason, however, was that we agreed that power should never again only rest with one man." _The last one was a blatant lie but he needed them to understand that not sharing power wasn't an option he would consider. She hadn't even agreed to anything yet as far as Jon knew._

"The Mad King was such a threat to the realm because no man could challenge his power and authority. He committed unforgivable sins but as the ultimate power, no one could punish him for what he had done. Robert Baratheon might not have murdered innocents, but with no one to tell him no, he plunged the crown ten million dragons in debt."

"Ten million dragons!" Lord Rodrik Ryswell exclaimed in disbelief. "Surely you jest?"

"It is no jest, my Lords. Lord Petyr Baelish served as Master of Coin under Robert Baratheon and Lord Tyrion Lannister served in the position after him. Both of them report the debt being that large." Sansa interjected with a sad shake of her head.

"Joffrey Waters was able to execute Ned Stark because no one had the authority to tell him no. Tommen Waters likewise gave the High Septon of the Faith of the Seven, the power to militarize because no one could tell him no. Now because of that decision, they have the authority to persecute those who keep the Old Gods for not following their gods. Both I and Queen Daenerys agree that unchecked power will only lead to disaster, and will not abide by it any longer, even when it is one of us who holds that power. If either one of us goes the way of our forefathers then we will not be able to destroy the Kingdom."

"I agree that sharing power is sensible, Your Grace, but surely it would be wiser to only take Daenerys Targaryen as your wife, and share the throne with your sister or someone else who is not mad. A Targaryen can not be trusted." Lord Holt argued rationally and to Jon's annoyance got nods in agreement.

Jon forced himself to remain calm at the insult to his Daenerys. "You forget that I am also a Targaryen, Lord Holt. My Da-throthed is not mad, while Aerys II was mad and Rhaegar Targaryen was mad; the vast majority of Targaryens were not. Aemon Targaryen was the uncle to the Mad King and he served as the Maester of the Night's Watch for almost a hundred years. Ask any brother of the Night's Watch and they would all say he showed no signs of madness. There have been plenty of good Targaryens who showed no sign of madness over the years. Daenerys Targaryen is not mad just like our great uncle and I. She is good."

"Your Grace," Lady Flint called out sweetly. "At Widow's Watch, we've received reports of Daenerys Targaryen's cruelty in Essos. She crucified 200 men when she took the city and burned Astapor to the ground. They say her dragon ripped men apart in the streets. Does that not sound like she is mad? Are you sure you aren't letting her beauty distract you from her true nature?"

"I've never even seen her in person, we've exchanged letters but I've never met her. How on earth would I be distracted by her beauty when for all I know, she is the ugliest woman alive?" Jon raged at their simple-mindedness. "It was _my_ dragon who was the one who ripped apart criminals when they tried to commit a crime. He'll do the same here if you try to murder or rape innocents. She crucified two hundred men when she took Meereen, Aye, and I killed a thousand in an even worse fashion when I defeated the Boltons."

"Those were the Boltons, Your Grace," Lord Fenn argued. "They were evil men, they deserved such treatment."

Jon lost it when he saw people nodding along with that blatant hypocrisy. "My Daenerys killed evil men just as I did, worse men even. She crucified slavers who beat and tortured innocent children for sport. Men who liked to watch other men fight to the death for their own amusement. She killed rapists and murderers, not innocents. She crucified the men who crucified children to send a message to her. She burned Astapor to the ground after she freed all the slaves and the innocents were free from the aftermath. Her actions were entirely justified and in her shoes, I would have done the same if not worse. She is not evil or mad but good and just."

"Your Grace-" Lord Wells tried to protest but Jon wasn't having it.

"Enough!" Jon shouted. "You all swore fealty to Houses Stark and Targaryen! Whether you like it or not, she is a member of House Targaryen and as such you owe your fealty to her as much as you owe it to me. She will be your Queen and you will treat her with the respect that her position deserves. I will hear no more of this treasonous talk." Rhaegal roared in agreement with Jon putting the foot down from outside.

"She offers us two more dragons, one of which dwarfs the size of Rhaegal as well as ten thousand men. Our chances of winning the war with both the south and the dead increase tenfold with her on our side. She has proven herself a good ruler and desires to build a better world than the world of southern Kings. You said you would never bow to a southerner again, and I understand that desire but she is not a southerner. She had never been south of the Neck, she does not follow the traditions of the south nor does she worship their gods. I've spoken with her on multiple occasions and can confirm that she had the North's best interests at heart. You will bow to your King and Queen or you will be burned alive for your treason. Do we have an accord?"

The Smalljon stood and for a short moment, Jon thought it was in defiance. "I may not like your choice in Queen, just like I did not approve of King Robb's choice but it is your choice, not ours. If you choose her as Queen then I will bow down and call her my Queen as I did with Queen Talisa, and treat her with the same respect I treat you, as is my duty as the vassal of the King. I will hail Daenerys Targaryen as my Queen." He swallowed nervously. "I hail Daenerys Targaryen as an equal to the King."

Lord Glover stood up once more."I won't try to hide the fact that I fucking hated the Mad Prince and the Mad King but if my King says that she is different, then I will trust his judgment. King Jon proves that sane Targaryens do exist, mayhaps she is also one of those of such a rare breed. King Jon has already proven himself wiser than every other King before him, so if he claims that Daenerys Targaryen is good then it must be so. His vision for the world is a beautiful one that I want to see become a reality. In this too, I trust him and will reluctantly hail Daenerys Targaryen as my Queen."

"I don't like that King Jon agreed to a marriage with Daenerys Targaryen that gave her half his power but I can respect it. He agreed to a marriage under false pretenses because he is as honorable as his true father. The fact that he has learned from his brother's mistakes and will keep his word to Daenerys Targaryen and marry her anyway only proves further that he is the right choice to be our King. If my King will keep his promise to Daenerys Targaryen, then I will as well and hail her as Queen and equal to the King." Lord Manderly said quietly but with the deathly silence that had fallen over the room, everyone heard him loud and clear.

"I hailed King Jon as King before he defeated the Boltons," Lady Lyanna Mormont boasted loudly. "In our darkest hour, I thought that it was King Jon who was there for us and avenged the Red Wedding. King Jon may have been the one who commanded the dragon that day to destroy the Boltons but it was Queen Daenerys who hatched it and sent him to the King. We owe her for our freedom, just as much as we do King Jon. If she will willingly share power with King Jon then she's already proven to me that she is not her father or her brother. I will proudly hail Daenerys Targaryen as the first ruling Queen and the equal to King Jon!" She shouted.

Jon smiled at her unshaken childlike understanding of things, she didn't care about family history. She just cared about the North and her House. He had claimed that his Daenerys had stood for both those so she was all for Daenerys being Queen since she had proven she cared for the North from her perception.

The whole room agreed to hail his Daenerys as their Queen eventually, after a few more well-timed roars from Rhaegal who was all too happy to help. Lyanna Mormont was the only one who was enthusiastic about his Daenerys being Queen but they all did agree to hail her as Queen so there was at least some wind in the sails. He only had one Kingdom sworn to the both of them at this point, but soon two more would follow. Things were finally coming into place. Now, all he needed was for Jorah to return to Meereen and his Daenerys to accept his offer when she learned that he was her favorite dragon. That was if Varys hadn't told her already, of course, which was far from a guarantee.

Rhaegal roared once more to regain control of the crowd so he could finally call this painstakingly long meeting to a close and go stretch his wings. "I thank you all for your support and faith in both me and my Queen. If anyone has any questions, now is the final chance to ask them, or else we can call this meeting to a close."

"Your Grace, what do you plan to do with the Kingslayer?" Lord Fisher called out. "He killed my son, and should die for that." He got many cheers and nods in agreement.

"I agree that the Kingslayer deserves death, but he is too valuable of a hostage to kill. He is the father of the bastard who currently sits on my throne and is Lord of the Westerlands. I too desire vengeance for all of his sins against the North and my house but I can not take it. We have to prioritize saving as many lives as possible. Without his hand, the Kingslayer is not a threat to the North but he is an extremely valuable hostage. Make no mistake, he will not be given the chance to escape again and whoever chooses to free him, be it my sister or some random steward, they will be executed for the crime."

He winced slightly at having to call anyone other than himself a bastard verbally, even the usurper who claimed his throne as his own. Bastard had become such a hateful and derogatory term in Westeros that implied lesser. Bastards were not any lower or different from trueborn sons. They were just people, like all of the prideful Lords gathered before him. It was necessary to use the term himself, as loathe as he was because he couldn't give any signs of his plans to legitimize all bastards, and remove that barrier or he would lose all the support he had just garnered."

Lord Fisher didn't look pleased but he nodded in agreement with Jon's explanation.

"Is there anything else, or may we finally call this meeting to a close?" Jon asked once more. No one said anything in reply this time. "In that case I thank you-"

"You forgot one thing brother," Sansa called out.

Jon eyed her with complete bafflement. They had discussed how they wanted this to go in excruciating detail, Jon was positive that he had done all that he had planned. "And what is that?"

She grinned at him and her eyes twinkled just like how Arya's did when she had just pranked Sansa. What did she have planned? Was she planning to undermine him again? To usurp him already? "Your Coronation, brother. You have just been crowned both King in the North and King of the Seven Kingdoms. No man is a King before he is coronated." She said mischievously and nodded towards Maester Wolkan.

Maester Wolkan stepped outside and Brienne came in carrying a large wooden chair- or perhaps it was meant to be a throne, stained black with a dragon head on the right armrest, and a wolf head on the left. The chair was padded with red cushions that had silver wolfs and dragons embroidered on them. She sat the chair in the center of the room, directly behind Jon.

Maester Wolkan re-entered the room carrying a rich purple pillow with a dark grey metal that was almost dark enough to be considered black crown resting on the top of it. The crown was both beautiful and terrifying to look at, it was thick and twisted but it was twisted in a beautiful way. The metal was molded in the shape of dragons that formed three peaks across the crown, the wings flapped up as if in flights and sticking up to form points on the crown. There were three of them, large and beautiful creatures wrought our of the metal. Interlocking the dragons, there were six smaller spikes, two between each dragon. As Jon looked closer, he realized that they were in the shape of direwolves howling at the moon with their snouts jutting up to form the points on the crown. "One for each of the Starks," Sansa whispered in his ear.

Jon felt tears prickling in his eyes as Sansa took the crown from Maester Wolkan and stepped onto a stool behind Jon so she could hold the crown over his head. This was truly incredible, and the kindest thing Sansa had probably ever done for him. She truly considered him a Stark, and not just a Stark but a Targaryen as well. She had made sure that the crown represented both sides of him in equal measure. It was perfect.

"Will you Jon, of Houses Stark and Targaryen, solemnly promise and swear to govern the people of all the seven kingdoms and their dominions thereto belonging according to the statues set by Aegon Targaryen, the first of his name, and the laws and customs agreed upon by the Kings who came before you, and the Lords who govern their regions?" Sansa asked him as tradition mandated.

"I do so solemnly swear it," Jon replied, his mouth suddenly very dry.

"Will you Jon, of Houses Stark and Targaryen, solemnly promise and swear to use your power to execute law and justice with mercy and wrath when the crime warrants it in all of your judgments?" She queried.

"I do so solemnly swear it," Jon said once more. He was going too be a true King now. Not a self-proclaimed one, but a corronated King in the eyes of both Gods and men.

"Will you Jon, of Houses Stark and Targaryen, solemnly promise and swear to respect the religion of the seven followed by those in the south as well as those who choose to follow the Old Gods in the north and not interfere in their religious practices nor will you govern the church and appoint leaders for them but allow them to operate freely under your rule?" She asked the final question.

Jon hesitated before answering this one, he would be lying if he said yes, he would not allow the church to continue some of their more barbaric practices. Their blatant hatred of women who chose to engage in sex outside of marital relations and that being punishable by the wall for men who slept with a noblewoman with consent and death in some cases even was not something he would tolerate in his Kingdoms. He also would not allow the faith militant to continue to operate outside of the law. "I do so solemnly swear that as long as the church abides by the laws of the crown and judges all people fairly, I will not interfere in their governing or practicioning of their faith."

There was an awkward moment of silence there, after Jon gave a completely unorthodox response to what was the standard questions posed to any new monarch since Aegon the first was crowned by the faith. He would break the wheel, and breaking the wheel meant not giving the faith ultimate power. They were just as guilty as anyone for trampling innocent men and women underfoot. He would not allow it to persist.

Finally, Sansa decided that his response was satisfactory enough and moved on with the ceremony. "May the Warrior grant him courage and protect him in these perilous times. May the Smith grant him strength that he might bear this heavy burden. And may the Crone, she that knows the fate of all men, show him the path he must walk and guide him through the dark places that lie ahead. May the Old Gods watch over him and give him direction in all his endeavors. In the light of the Seven, and before the Old Gods, I now proclaim Jon of the House Targaryen, First of His Name. Rightful King of the Andals, the Rhyonar, and the First Men; Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Long may he reign!" Sansa exclaimed.

"Long May he reign!" The entire room echoed as Sansa set the crown upon his head and Jon grunted as it fell upon his brow and he was made to carry the heavy crown on his scalp. He saw Rickkon standing on his left and felt his head get suddenly extremely warm as he took his seat on the makeshift throne that had been prepared for him.

Rickon held out a mirror so Jon could observe his own reflection and was awed when he noticed that the crown was on fire. The flames licked at his head but did not burn and the crown showed no signs of decay as it burned, unlike the copper one.

"It's Tungsten," Sansa explained to him. "It is highly flammable but doesn't melt easily so it should be able to be burned regularly without the use of oil or needing to replace it. The material is too brittle to be used in weapons and is too garish and heavy to be used in jewelry most of the time so it's pretty cheap and easy to acquire. Lord Baelish had this made for you on my request."

Jon was reluctant to thank Lord Baelish for anything and would never feel gratitude of any kind towards him for what he did to Sansa but he would admit that the crown was perfect. He truly looked and felt like a Targaryen King now, not some pretender who was just copying his Daenerys or Robb but a true Targaryen and Stark King. It was exhilarating. Rhaegal roared happily from outside and Jon smiled as he looked out on his loyal subjects.

* * *

Jon and Sansa were due to leave on Rhaegal for the Vale in only a few short hours to meet with the Lords of the Vale and gain their support. Jon was restless with anticipation, and fear. He knew that Sansa said Baelish had an expansive spy network, that was comparable to that of the spider. Jon doubted the last part, since Baelish probably wasn't a warg but he did worry. What if Baelish knew that his Daenerys hadn't actually agreed to share power with him- possibly? Or what if she had been hurt or killed in his absence and he only learned of it now? That Baelish had known it before him because he was flying blind in Meereen. What if by saving his life and gaining the North he had doomed her and traded one of his lives for her own? He had missed his Daenerys and would continue to do so until he saw her again.

His head hurt from all the information on the different cultures of the Vale and their mountain clans that he would have to precariously balance simultaneously to get all of their support. He had a pretty straightforward approach to get the loyalty of most clans but there was still some uncertainty and anything could go wrong. He was quickly discovering that the hardest part of the ruling was respecting the religions and cultures of every one of his subjects on equal footing without angering anyone from a different culture. How had his Daenerys even kind of balanced it all? This was much harder than he had given her credit for, breaking the wheel required breaking traditions unless you walked the line perfectly. Breaking traditions meant causing a rebellion, and causing rebellion meant they would not be united when the Long Night came. He had no choice but to walk that line perfectly, or give up on bettering the life of the common man. The North was a comparatively easy Kingdom to the Vale since he had grown up there and knew the culture well but the Vale he had very limited exposure to, only knowing what he did through books and the scarce handful of Valemen who had joined the watch. He lacked the practical experience to appeal to them in the most optimal manner. That hardly meant he wouldn't try though. Most of what he did with the North was easily repeatable and shouldn't offend the Valeman too much from what Jon knew. the mountain clans he had to have unique plans for each one to fit what he knew of their culture.

His bird should be arriving in Meereen soon, today even if Jon was correct, perhaps before sending the bird to Varys he could personally check on his Daenerys and make sure for himself, that she was alright. He needed to see her again, after so long apart. He needed the assurance before he trusted the word of the spider and made plans and claims involving her based on his word her rationalized to himself.

It was tactical, not personal that he needed to see her. He forced his way into the bird, shuddering involuntarily at how wrong it felt to be the bird. He was in luck. They were in Meereen now, he recognized the Temple of the Graces very easily from all the times that Rhaegal had seen it while in Meereen. From there, it was only a few turns and maybe an hour of flight, to the temple that had housed his Daenerys, and to their balcony. He flew eagerly in the wrong skin en route towards their balcony.

He dove in the bird's tiny body through the open doors that Rhaegal had always been too big to get anything more than his head through. His Daenerys was not in her room. Had something happened to her? Had she died because he left her here? If Jon wasn't mistaken on the time, she should still be here, this had been their time in the mornings and she had rarely left her room that early ever. He was almost certain that it was too early for her to have begun seeing petitioners for the day. Something must have happened to her and it was his fault.

Jon shook his head. He had to be mistaken, there had to be some other reason she wasn't in her room. Perhaps, they had had another emergency council meeting this morning. Where were those exactly? He had never been able to follow as just a dragon when she did have them. Wherever, she was, Jon would find her and make sure that she was safe.

He exited through her door that was open just a crack and flew through the scarily empty halls at a breakneck pace, his sensitive ears perked up and listening to everything, in search of her voice. He came to the stairs and warred with himself before deciding that downstairs was the way to go. He knew the throne room was there so he could at least check to see if she had chosen to start seeing petitioners early, even if the lack of people, waiting outside made that possibility terrifyingly unlucky.

He followed the stairs all the way to the ground floor and heard murmurings of conversations taking place in a myriad of rooms as he flew past them in High Valyrian that he only understood small fragments of from his self-taught lessons and he heard the sound of boiling water as he flew past the kitchens. All the sounds that he heard, none of them matched his Daenerys, and Jon was getting worried now.

He flew further down the hall and past the throne room when he heard nothing coming from there, something must have happened to her. He had left her and she had died because of it. He had prioritized being a human again, and being a King at that to protecting his Daenerys from her enemies.

He was jarred from his spiral of doubt and self-hatred when he heard an all too familiar beautiful musical glorious laugh. That was his Daenerys! Or at least it sounded like her, he followed the bird's ears down the hall and to the noise as a familiar voice that Jon could not place spoke to her in the common tongue.

"He looked absolutely ridiculous after he tried to paint his face brown with mud so he could try to leave with them-" Jon tuned the other voice out as he stared at the closed door, that his Daenerys might be barred behind. He couldn't be sure that it was her, he had to see her with his own eyes first. For her safety, of course, no other reason.

The door was closed but there were windows outside and they rarely were closed. He could check on her from there. Jon swerved into the nearest open room and flew out through the open window. He immediately spun towards the room where he had heard his Daenerys laugh from behind the closed door. The window was open but the curtains were drawn. He would likely have to be content with just hearing her, jostling the curtains would draw attention that he didn't want.

"He really wanted to leave so badly? He really felt so unwanted that he tried to sneak away with the Dornish because they treated them with more respect then half his family?" His Daenerys's voice asked quietly.

"That's what Jon let everyone think." The other very familiar voice responded. "It was only when I confronted him about it, upset and angry that Jon had wanted to abandon us that Jon told me the real reason behind his uh escape attempt."

They were speaking about him, but who knew anything about him in Meereen beside Theon? Who had he spoken with that they would have such an oddly personal story about him? The voice very distinctly was not the same as Theon's from when he had nearly eaten him, and it wasn't Varys or Tyrion either. Whoever it was, had to be lying to his Daenerys to make him look bad.

"Jon hadn't actually wanted to leave us, he had enjoyed the Dornish's carefree attitude and how they didn't care that he was a bastard but he hadn't wanted to leave. Sansa had been heartbroken when she found out that her darling Prince Quentyn would be leaving and she wouldn't get to marry him. She had been inconsolable and moping about it constantly. She hated Jon but Jon still cared for her in spite of her rudeness towards him. Jon had wanted her to be happy again, and to no longer mope about her beloved prince."

"So he covered his face in mud, and tried to sneak away in the Dornish retinue. There was nothing that Sansa loved more than making fun of Jon. His plan worked to perfection, Sansa laughed so hard when he was caught in their company and forgot all about her precious Prince. She spent the next few months, calling Jon mud face at every possible opportunity and would tease him whenever she saw him, but she did stop moping about her prince to be mean towards Jon instead." The very familiar and feminine voice said.

Jon remembered that incident all too well when Lord Anders Yronwood had visited Winterfell with his ward, Quentyn Martell, a Prince of Dorne, to discuss the renewal of a trade agreement between their houses. There had never been a chance of a betrothal between Sansa and Prince Quentyn. The bad blood between Dorne and the Stark's after the actions of his parents had made that impossible. There was also, the fact that Prince Quentyn had not appreciated the affections of Sansa and had actively avoided her whenever possible as Sansa obsessively stalked him. Even if, Quentyn and Sansa had been the best of friends, a marriage agreement could never have happened then between the two since Lord Yronwood was not the Prince's father and did not have the authority to agree to a contract for Quentyn.

Jon's heart thudded painfully in his chest. There was only one person that he had told his reasoning for his plot to, Arya. There was no chance that was actually her, she couldn't be here. There was no way that she had actually arrived in Meereen in the short months since he had left.

Jon couldn't stop himself from poking his head through the curtains, he had to see if it was Arya for himself. He had to know if she was actually here with his Daenerys. That she was truly still alive, and Brienne hadn't been mistaken when she saw her with the Hound.

His Daenerys was still as beautiful as ever, her curled silver hair framing her smooth face and her violet eyes shined brightly, and her thin eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. Her face was slightly pinched, upset with something from Arya's tale apparently. He had missed the sight of her.

All he could see of what Jon thought might be Arya was a mop of stringy dark hair and bruises on her neck and shoulders, the ones around her neck in the clear shape of a handprint. What had happened to her? If this was actually Arya, how had she suffered so?

He had to see her face, to know for certain that this was her, to know that Arya was still alive. He knew it was foolish but he flew the rest of the way in the room and around to the wall closest to the door, so he could see her face again.

"Why then would he name Sansa of all people as his hand if she was cruel to him?"

There was no doubting that it was Arya Stark now that he could lay his beady black eyes on her. Her face was haggard, bruised, and her complexion was paler than he remembered. Still, there was no mistaking her long face, and grey eyes so similar in looks to those of his uncle. They sparkled with the same joy and rebelliousness that they always had in Winterfell, in spite, of her subpar condition. He couldn't help but let out a squawk in his elation at Arya being alive and with his Daenerys.

His squawk drew the attention of both the women in the room with him, and Daenerys reached out for him, no doubt seeing the scroll that he had tied to his leg. Jon dove away from her grip, instinctively. She didn't know that he was a warg and would likely take the note, stating that Varys had been communicating with him rather poorly and possibly execute his source. It was better that she didn't know that Jon was in communications with Varys yet. She would think it was just an odd bird and nothing more. In a few days, his Daenerys and Arya would have both forgotten about his visit.

He had avoided his Daenerys's prying hands and was almost home free when a small hand wrapped around the bird's torso. He had forgotten about how quick Arya's reflexes were. He flapped his wings rapidly, trying to break free but her grip was like iron and would not loosen.

"Good reflexes, Arya," His Daenerys said appreciatively.

Arya frowned slightly. "They're well-honed from when I had to catch birds with my hands and snap their necks to have food to eat."

His Daenerys pursed her lips and sighed. "You don't have to do that anymore." Jon was even more horrified by what she had to endure during their time apart. She had been so desperate for food she was eating random birds that she caught with her bare hands to survive? What else had happened to her in his absence?

He watched in horror as Arya removed the scroll from his leg and noticed the Targaryen sigil. Using such a distinguished seal had been a mistake. He hadn't been thinking when he reflexively grabbed his seal off the desk. "I think it might be from Jon, or at least someone pretending to be him," She said as she held out the scroll to his Daenerys.

He stopped struggling in Arya's vice-like grip and watched in both horror and fascination as his Daenerys unfurled the scroll. Her brows furrowed as she read it, before she handed it over to Arya.

"Is this from Jon?" She asked. "I don't understand what exactly this is about. I presume it is for Varys but the meaning for it is lost on me. Perhaps you'll understand it, since you actually have heard him speak before." He wasn't surprised that she had no clue what it spoke of, only someone who knew about wargs would be able to understand what he was hinting at.

Arya let go of Jon but at this point, it was too late to escape with the scroll since his Daenerys had already read it. He would have to try to soothe things over as a bird who could only nod his head and somehow manage to get taken to Varys who could explain who and what he was. He sat himself down on Arya's soldier as she read the scroll aloud to herself. They needed to know that he was more intelligent than a normal bird. His Daenerys would have to know that he was a warg before the day was out. It was unavoidable. Hopefully, she didn't take it too horribly.

_Spider,_

_This little bird is broken. I appreciate you offering one to me. I think it's only fair that I return the favor, I'll happily serve as a little bird myself, in case she needs to learn anything from my domain urgently. Six AM your time is when I'll serve as the bird but I'll leave the time when you'll be the bird up to you._

_-The Crow_

Arya frowned as she finished reading it. "It's Jon's handwriting, making sense of this is more difficult." She reached up and absentmindedly stroked Jon's feathers from where he sat on her shoulder. "I'd presume the she that he speaks of is you, Daenerys. His domain is likely the North as well. The rest of it is nonsense."

Jon bobbed his head up and down to try to show them that they were right.

His Daenerys and Arya didn't seem to notice his visual clues. "Perhaps he is just offering to be an informant to Varys and Varys offered to be the same for him? He calls his sources little birds so perhaps it is just code to avoid the risk of things being intercepted." His Daenerys speculated.

Jon did not take kindly to being ignored last time he told them they were right and this time let out a short trill to get their attention before bobbing his head up and down repeatedly.

Daenerys and Arya both glanced his way this time. "Is it nodding?" Arya asked quietly.

Jon stopped bobbing his head and then nodded once more.

"Rhaegal?" Daenerys said in complete shock.

Jon froze. How had she put that together so quickly? Had Varys broken his promise and told her that he was a warg? Had Jorah returned to Meereen already? The winds had been blowing westward recently so he was more than a little shocked if he had. Still, it didn't matter how it was that she knew his truth, only that she did. He wouldn't lie to her. So he bobbed his head again in confirmation.

Daenerys held out her hand to him in a daze but froze before her soft hands came in contact with him. Jon closed the distance between them and fluttered onto her outstretched finger using it as a makeshift perch.

"So Jon is a warg of this bird?" Arya asked.

Jon bobbed his head once more in confirmation.

"So the little bird is broken is code for being able to warg into it?" Arya asked once more.

Jon bobbed his head again. That was sort of the gist of it at least.

"Are you suggesting that Varys is also a warg?" His Daenerys asked. "That his little birds who inform him of things are just people speaking to a warg?"

Jon nodded and puffed with pride that his Daenerys had come to the same conclusions as him.

"It appears that I need to have a conversation with Varys about what it means to serve me," His Daenerys murmured to herself. She looked away from Jon and ignored that he was perched on her finger.

"It's not your fault," Arya said softly with a small smile after an awkward moment of silence.

Jon tilted his head with confusion and eyed Arya, expecting an explanation.

He heard his Daenerys sigh, and turned back towards her. "I owe you an apology Rhaegal- err Jon," She said awkwardly even as she refused to look at him.

Jon trilled and shook his head but she continued to ignore him.

"I should have trusted your judgment when it came to Daario, you were right not to trust him."

Jon was even more confused now, he had attacked Daario because he had tried to steal his Daenerys and because he was jealous, nothing more. Arya thankfully understood Jon's reasoning. "He was just jealous," Arya muttered.

Jon bobbed his head up and down to try to agree with Arya but his Daenerys chose that moment to look at him and took it the wrong way.

"I know, I'm sorry. I don't know why I trusted him instead of you." She apologized again as she looked away again with tears springing up in the corners of her eyes.

Jon rapidly shook his head trying to convey that wasn't what he meant and Arya laughed. "He was agreeing with me not you, he doesn't blame you and was just jealous of Daario."

Jon nodded in agreement with Arya once more.

His Daenerys deflated but finally looked at him. "You won't think the same in a moment. There's no easy way to say this…" She trailed off unable to admit to him whatever Daario had done.

Arya had no such qualms. "Daario raped me and left me for dead in an alley, if Daenerys hadn't stumbled across me I would have died." She said bluntly.

Jon flinched violently at that statement and his claws tightened their grip on his Daenerys's finger, drawing blood, she hissed in pain but Jon hardly heard her. How had Arya suffered so much without him there to protect her? This was his fault. Daario had never done anything while Rhaegal was there, he had obviously feared Rhaegal too much to do anything that might anger him. He had left Meereen and she had suffered because Rhaegal had no longer been a deterrent to Daario's abhorrent behavior. He should have found another way to defeat the Boltons so Arya was safe. She wouldn't have been raped if he had been there and not selfishly called Rhaegal to himself.

"If I had just listened to you, she would have never been hurt." His Daenerys said quietly.

Jon shook his head rapidly. It wasn't her fault. She hadn't known what Daario would do and Jon hadn't either. Jon wished that he had killed him but that didn't mean that it would have been the right decision. If he killed every person he didn't like then Westeros would be naught but ashes. His mistake had been intentionally avoiding Daario whenever possible, not wanting to think about the man who occupied his Daenerys's bed. If he hadn't he might have been tipped off to his despicable behavior and been able to stop it before he did anything to his sister.

He would fly over to Meereen on Rhaegal immediately and kill the man who had dared to touch his little sister. He would rip the monster apart while he screamed for mercy as Ramsay had but there would be none. He would not let his suffering end no matter how much the monster who had attempted to steal the two most important people from him plead for death. He would suffer for the rest of eternity. The Vale could wait, his sister was more important than a Kingdom. Actually she wasn't when the fate of the world depended on him being King but he wanted it more.

"Thank you for not hating me, for refusing to listen to you. I need to go speak with Varys about… this. I'll speak to you again tomorrow, at six AM I guess. It was good speaking to you again Rha- Jon. Keep him caged in here, Arya." His Daenerys said quietly, in a bit of a rush.

Jon trilled sadly as she stood up and dislodged himself from her hand before exiting the room without a backward glance.

He resettled himself on Arya's shoulder once more as she sighed. "I owe you an apology as well Jon, I sold needle."

Jon would be lying if he said that didn't hurt him. He had saved up money for many moons to have it made for her, and she had sold it. He had spent so much time and effort into having it perfectly fitted for her because he knew she wanted to have a sword so badly and she had gotten rid of it.

"I was broken after the Red Wedding, after showing up at the Vale, and hearing my aunt was dead, that even Sansa was a fugitive. I had nowhere left to go, the only person I wanted to see was at the wall, which was the one place I couldn't go because as much as I might have wished otherwise, I was born a Lady. When the Lannister soldier killed Sandor, and wanted to take me with her, I panicked and fled. I booked passage to Bravos with the coin I had looted off of Sandor's corpse."

"When I got there, I tried to forget who I once was, I was hurting with what I thought was the loss of my entire family, even if I now know better. When I heard of Daenerys Targaryen, in Meereen with real dragons, I needed to see it for myself. I needed to know that the impossible could happen, that dreams could come true. I wanted to start over, in a better world where I could leave behind Arya Stark."

"So I sold needle, to afford passage to Meereen so I could see the dragons for myself. I foolishly went into the city defenseless. Needle had saved my life countless times since escaping King's Landing but I foolishly sold it thinking Meereen was some utopian fantasy land where dreams came true. On the first night in Meereen, I paid for that mistake."

"I was beaten and robbed my first day in the city. I was homeless and defenseless with no mythical dragon to defend me. Only a few days later, Daario raped me and Daenerys found me. She saved my life and allowed me to kill Daario."

"She told me that you had died, and came back through foul blood magic. She said that you were a Targaryen, and her kin, she offered me a place by her side and promised to return me home to you when she returned to Westeros. She said that Bran, and Rickon weren't actually killed by Theon. She told me that Sansa was with you, and you were going to die at the hands of the Boltons."

"I had never been so glad as when I heard that Rhaegal had saved you. I was shocked and didn't believe it, when Tyrion revealed to us his suspicion that you were Rhaegal. I thought that there was no way that my favorite brother wouldn't protect me when I needed him most. That he would have left just before I needed him. I-I when Varys confirmed Tyrion's suspicions as the truth, I had never felt so betrayed. I know that you didn't mean to leave exactly when I showed up, that it was just a coincidence but you weren't even my brother- you weren't there for me when I needed you the most and it hurt."

"Daenerys has been so good to me, I can't wait to have her as a good-sister. She's a great queen who understands me and can protect me. She'll be a great wife to you, she can be there for me when you can't. She does what you can't and will compliment your many weaknesses perfectly. I'm glad that your found her. I don't blame you for what happened to me, of course, but I'm glad that you found her and that she'll be your wife. It'll be good to have family who will always be there for me when I need it most."

"I-I can't do this right now, I'm sorry I just can't speak of this to you-." She cut herself off as she sobbed and ran out of the room without a backward glance towards the bird that Jon was inhabiting."

 _Do not leave this room, no matter what._ Jon imprinted on the bird's mind before slipping back into his own skin. There were tears running down his cheeks the instant he was in his human body again.

It was all his fault that Arya had suffered so. If he had been there for her, she would never have been raped. He knew his Daenerys had blamed herself but even Arya had blamed him, even if she claimed otherwise. That much had been apparent. He had failed her as her brother, he had failed to protect her, opting instead to protect himself. He was responsible for her rape, and he couldn't even be there to comfort her when she needed him most. Even if he tried, she had said he couldn't do that for her. That she didn't want him to comfort her because she didn't feel like she could trust him.

This should have been the best day of his life, he had found out he was marrying his Daenerys. He had found Arya, alive, not healthy but alive. His two favorite humans in the entire world got along great and were apparently the best of friends. His Daenerys still cared for him, the same way, in spite of knowing that he was Jon, and not just Rhaegal. Arya was alive, and with his Daenerys. They would both join him in Westeros soon.

The weight of his own failure made it impossible to find any joy in the news that the day had brought so far. He had failed her, not as a Stark where he failed many times before today, but he had failed her as a Targaryen. He had failed her because he was Rhaegal, if he hadn't been Rhaegal she might have not been raped if Rhaegal had been there to protect her.

The worst part was even if it saved Arya from Daario, he would not give up this connection to Rhaegal or his Daenerys to stop it from happening. What kind of monster did that make him that he would choose his dragon and his Daenerys over his sister? That he would choose having his love over her not suffering? Ned Stark would be disgusted with him. He had risked his family to keep Jon safe and Jon had let his family suffer because of him- because he was a Targaryen. He was selfish. Perhaps, he truly was Rhaegar's son.

* * *

**Jon does have dark urges, he's a warg of a dragon and dragons are not inherently nice creatures. They are vicious weapons of war that rain fire down on their enemies. That does not mean that Jon is mad. Everyone has dark urges or thinks of doing terrible things but it is the decision to act on them that defines who you are. Thinking something is not the same as wanting that although not all characters will understand that. Jon is aware of the consequences of what giving in to his urges would be, and he has the impulse control to stop himself. He has very unhealthy habits but that does not make him mad, he just isn't perfect.**

**The scripture verse from the Seven-Pointed Star is a slightly doctored version of Exodus 21 taken out of context like how all scripture in any religion often is. The context does matter and in the bible it is talking about how one should treat their slaves fairly and if they hurt their slaves they too should be hurt in equal measure. It's a verse proclaiming that even slaves have rights, not that revenge is righteous or good. The New Gods are heavily based off of the real-life catholic church so its likely the scriptures in the Seven Pointed Star will often mirror those of the bible. I do not mean any offense to Christians or other religions by taking influence from their religion to insert into the story but the church/religion is a critical element of all societies especially in this time period so religion has a pretty key role in this story. The Seven are not the same thing as the God of the bible and their words and actions are in no way meant to reflect on that God negatively. This is just fanfiction and fictional religions with real life influences, that is not meant to say anything about my own religion.**

**The Edmure scene was a lot of fun to write once I realized that he might not know Jon is a Targaryen. The show loves to bash on Edmure and make him seem incompetent and stupid for some reason. He's not the most capable character but that doesn't change who he is. He is a Tully and believes in their families' words. Family, Duty, and Honor. He lowers the drawbridge to Riverrun in the books and gives the Freys access when Jamie threatens his unborn child who will grow up as a Frey. Even if he cared for his blood solely for being blood, it was likely an empty threat and he was condemning his brothers death by doing so if he did as Jamie wanted. I'm of the opinion that the real reason he surrendered the castle was so he could share Robb's will with his brother so the news could reach Robb's heir. It makes Edmures sacrifice play a sacrifice play, instead of him just being weak and unable to stand his ground against threats. Edmure isn't the most capable fighter and I'll admit I had a lot of things go wrong for him purely for comedic value as I tried to keep with that side of his character from the show but rather than him being comedic because everyone slams him its more due to Murphy's law. I'm not actually entirely convinced Jon is Robb's heir in the books, it feels like a huge red herring but I haven't the foggiest who else it could be so for the sake of this story he is.**

**Olyvar is one of three named Freys not present for the Red Wedding, and it's suggested that his loyalty to Robb which we see is still intact after Robb's marriage is the reason why he is not present. His jumping up to Kinslaying is a big step but his family butchered his King who he squired to, revenge is a natural desire even against ones own family. Not having the Freys become extinct is also an interesting dynamic for later. Olyvar does survive and comes b**

**Edmure's thought process is jumbled and incoherent. That is intentional as solitary confinement fucks the mind more than just about anything in the world. He stands strong and refuses to kneel to some random King who he believes is Daenerys's husband out of loyalty to Robb and his heir Jon. Jon misinterprets his refusal of believing Catelyn's opinion of him to be fact and gets mad and lashes out. Edmure realizing Robb's will would die with him sees no choice but to use his King to stop the north from kneeling to a Targaryen. The joke was on him the entire time. Jon overreacts to Robb's will in his paranoia and exaggerates the issues it will cause him.**

**Varys being a warg was something I had planned from the start. I didn't read the books until after the entirety of the show was done not wanting spoilers, so I was completely unaware of the possible Blackfyre theory. From the very first time wargs were mentioned by the wildlings, I thought Varys was one. It seemed so obvious, he called his spies little birds because they were literal birds. I don't actually think that is the case after reading the books and learning of his tongue-less spies but there are a lot of comparisons between Varys and Bloodraven. There is also this part of the Dance With Dragons prologue that might not just be a coincidence; _"Get out, get out!" he heard her own mouth shouting. Her body staggered, fell, and rose again, her hands flailed, her legs jerked this way and that in some grotesque dance as his spirit and her own fought for the flesh. She sucked down a mouthful of the frigid air, and Varamyr had half a heartbeat to glory in the taste of it and the strength of this young body before her teeth snapped together and filled his mouth with blood. She raised her hands to his face. He tried to push them down again, but the hands would not obey, and she was clawing at his eyes. Abomination, he remembered, drowning in blood and pain and madness. When he tried to scream, she spat their tongue out."_**

**Regardless, of if it is cannon or not, in this story it is the reality. In all the Game of Thrones/ASOIAF fanfics I've read I've yet to see one use wargs in the most useful manner. I won't pretend I've read to many of them but all the ones that have wargs play a key role use them as spies to eavesdrop. The real advantage of a warg is the ability to get information across vast distances in a very short amount of time. This is something Jon took advantage of as Rhaegal but never thought to use for himself outside of that. You don't even need a warg on both ends to do this. Varys could have a scheduled time with all his sources where they talk at a bird and report what they learned to the open air. They could even do it in the solace of their homes free from any lurkers. Alternatively, and more likely considering the mute children, Varys could simply have his sources write letters and leave them, hidden in a pre-determined position. He simply flies by each morning, unravels any new letters and reads over them before disposing of the letter. The risk of interception is much lower than usual and Varys gets the information at speeds that leave his enemies unable to react and drives them paranoid and has them tear up their own army as they suspect all of their men having betrayed them and eagerly at that with how soon he knows stuff.**

**We know that in canon, Varys claims to hate magic after he was euphonized. That does not mean he actually hates magic. He is very capable of lying, and does so quite often. If you don't want anyone to suspect you have magic, then pretending to hate all forms of it is a good way to go about doing that. I'm sure people will claim that Varys has no blood of the first men so he can't be a warg but canonically he does not have any known Blackfyre blood yet most the fandom believes he is one anyways. Mathematically, the odds are much higher that he has some diluted First Men blood which entails hundreds of families for generations then that he has the blood of the lone Blackfyre line still maybe not extinct. I realize that having Varys as an all-powerful warg spymaster on their side seems a bit overpowered but Varys is way too much of a morally grey character. and too interfering for it to necessarily be such. Not all is as good as it seems.**

**The meeting with the Northern Lords went better than it probably should have but the meeting was carefully puppeteered by Jon. He knows how to appeal to the North having grown up a Northerner. He knows what to say that will get them to fall in line. He frames his goals as undoing southern things even if that's not strictly true. He frames things as wanting to show the south the right way of life- the Northern way of life. He prays on the dark moments of the Red Wedding and the Boltons rule and uses those to support his ideals. The other lands will not be so easy as Jon isn't one of them and they have less incentive to want him on the throne. The Northerners have also seen what his dragon can do first hand, and that makes the fear element more present than ever. Rhaegal really is the ultimate crowd control.**

**If the strongest houses follow him, the weakest ones will to which is why Jon prioritizes securing the Manderlys and Glover. In a perfect world, he would give the Mormonts or the Slates the Dreadfort, or perhaps even Rickon as repayment for their loyalty but that would be stupid. The ones who are already loyal to him he doesn't need to bribe, it's the one who are not loyal who are rewarded because you fear their betrayal otherwise. That is the ugly side of politics, good men are not rewarded and evil men are. He gives land to the Manderlys, and land to the ward of the Glovers to secure their loyalty before he goes into the truly controversial stuff. He also demands fealty to House Targaryen before even mentioning Daenerys so they think it is just him and his descendants he is talking about. As Northerners are proud and stubborn men who don't like breaking oaths having that fealty means something.**

**The coronation vows are slightly doctored versions of the vows in the Coronation Oath Act of 1688 as we never actually see a full coronation in cannon. We see the end anointing when Tommen is crowned and the High Septon gives his blessing but that's all. Cersei's coronation is literally her being proclaimed and then everyone saying long may she reign. I took some creative liberties with the ceremony for this.**

**Tungsten is easily the most fascinating metal in the world. It has the highest tensile strength of any metal and the highest melting point but it doesn't have any impact strength and is extremely dense so it doesn't have much practical use in this time period. The metal doesn't lose its shape when heated, and surprisingly is extremely flammable making it the perfect material for a reusable crown of fire. Baelish and Sansa had it designed for him to throw a surprise coronation there.**

**Jon visits with Daenerys again as the bird that went to Meereen to have Varys spy for him. He finds Arya and learns a little of what she went through. Daenerys isn't guessing that the bird is Jon when she calls him Rhaegal she is just noting the similarities in their behavior, and remarking on it, She only realizes its Jon when he nodds to her calling him Rhaegal. She apologizes to him, Jon blames himself instead of her, and Arya encourages that blame by lying to the bird. There is gonna be an internal struggle about him not wanting to follow in his father and brothers legacy of love over duty so the fact that he would still rather have Rhagal who is his other half, and the woman he loves than protect his sister is going to tear him in two.**

**In a more general note, I believe in showing a characters emotions as they understand them not as they actually are. Internal justifications they tell themselves are absolutely not always one hundred percent accurate even when that justification is about themselves. If a character is not in tune with their emotions they will not internally process it accurately to how they really feel. Characters will also make internal assumptions that are outright false at times. Not everything you read is actually true. People thoughts will change at the drop of a dime because they are not committed to believing that thing yet and the theory they follow just flipped. That does not make them mad, or have a mental disorder. That is just how humans work. We don't commit to one belief and stay firm in it when we were only briefly committed to it. Humans are complex and many layered creatures that often time don't even understand their own thoughts.** **Daenerys going back and forth on Jon so many times is natural and not a sign of madness. She believes Arya so easily because as Petyr Baelish says in Feast of Crows; "Men see what they want to see." She doesn't want to believe that Jon is evil and Rhaegal betrayed her so when she is offered some evidence to the contrary she takes it.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is another Daenerys one where she has a conversation with Varys and Jorah finally returns to Meereen. That should be up next Friday as always.


	27. Daenerys V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys talks with Varys about the mornings revelations, has a culture lesson with Tyrion and Jorah finally returns from Westeros.

This morning had been incredibly odd, to say the least. She had gone to visit Arya in the morning as she had every day for over a month now, and she had told her yet another story about her nephew. The story had been another new one, of course, but it spoke the same things of her nephew's character that all the others had. Her nephew was good like her, and cared for everyone, even those who didn't care for him.

Things had flown off the rails after the tale was done, as a raven had shown up with a letter from her nephew and probable husband to be. That raven revealed that Varys had offered to give secrets to her nephew, and her nephew had offered to do the same. Then Rhaegal had been the Raven, making it impossible to believe that Varya and Tyrion were wrong about Rhaegal being Jon, and vice versa? She still didn't know how to refer to her nephew and dragon. Arya was right about Jon not trying to hide the truth from her, they likely never would have figured out what his very cryptic note meant if it wasn't for him revealing himself as Rhaegal.

She was ecstatic that Jon didn't hate her for what had happened to Arya under her watch, even if he probably should. She had enjoyed speaking to him again, however briefly and seeing Rhaegal even if it wasn't as Rhaegal but as a bird was wonderful. Jon clearly did still care about her, in spite, of his decision to abandon her. He had prioritized his own life, over being with her. She could hardly blame him for that. She was glad that he was still alive.

The other revelations of the morning were less thrilling. Varys had gone behind her back again, and offered to give her secrets to her nephew. She had promised that if Varys ever opted to betray her that she would burn him alive when he had sworn himself to her. She had forgiven him for keeping Jon's secret from her considering that revealing he was Rhaegal could probably in theory have caused his death and she certainly didn't want that. Could she even be mad at Varys giving her secrets to Jon? She had planned to name him as both her King Consort and hand, they weren't exactly meant to be kept secret from him. The only thing she was really upset about at this point in time was that he hadn't told her about it.

Oh, and the fact that Jon had claimed Varys was a warg was certainly discomforting. On one hand, it assured her that wargs worked as Arya had claimed and Rhaegal wasn't being made a slave to Jon, or else Varys would have just stolen her dragons, and crowned someone else he thought good as King instead of turning to her when their visions weren't so perfectly alligned. She was fairly confident that Jon was correct in his assumption that Varys was a warg. It made too much sense not to be true. Everyone knew Varys had better sources than anyone else, he had always known things impossibly fast. It was the only reason that she had taken a chance on him as her spymaster, his loyalty was questionable considering how many different kings he had served and betrayed but if he was on your side then he was irreplaceable. Him being a warg and his birds being literal birds was a logical explanation for how he knew the content of things immediately. Just like she told Jon things his spies told things to the birds and he could spy on any important meeting he knew about beforehand in person. Or was the correct term in bird?

She was fairly certain that one couldn't warg into a thousand things at once, so she wasn't at constant risk of anything being overheard by Varys or some other warg. If that wasn't the case then Jon wouldn't have needed to send a bird to relay information to Varys and vice versa. Arya had described it as only one animal you're close too but that wasn't exactly correct if Jon had warged a random bird, and Varys likely had hundreds of random birds of his own. Still, she was fairly certain the one thing at a time rule was true or else Rhaegal wouldn't have only visited her in the mornings… Unless Jon was only entertaining her delusions and didn't really care for her.

Daenerys shook her head. She wouldn't go down that route. She couldn't go down that route. Not again. Arya had made her see how illogical it would be for Jon to act that way. If he was just using her there were better ways to do so then by pretending to care for her as a dragon. There were better ways to fool her then to reveal that he was a warg to her. He cared for her, his actions proved that. She knew he cared for her and she would not allow herself to doubt that fact. She would not go mad with suspicion and paranoia as her father had. She was not the Mad Queen.

Where was she? Ah, yes Lord Varys. Knowing that he was a warg now, made his services even more valuable. He had previously told her of the happenings in other parts of the world, with an obvious travel delay. He hadn't told her of Jon's resurrection until over a week after it happened if her guesses on the timetable based on Rhaegal's behavior was at all accurate. If she knew he was a warg now then there was no need for a travel delay in his information to keep his abilities secret. She would know what happened in Westeros immediately now. She of course, probably wouldn't be able to act on that knowledge immediately unless she had too but she would know it and would have more time to plan and prepare. Keeping Varys's abilities secret made them more useful, no one suspected an animal to be a spy.

She needed to discuss what Varys's skillset meant to her, and make sure he knew that keeping secrets from her and going behind her back was not okay. She needed to make it clear to him that if he did it again she would follow through on her threat and burn him alive. He would be honest, and upfront with her immediately from now on or she would find a way to replace him. Jon was a warg himself, surely he could serve in Varys's role if needed. He was no longer one of a kind now that they knew his secret.

She didn't bother to knock on the door to Varys's chambers instead opting to just barge in. "Lord Varys, you've betrayed me." She said in lieu of a greeting.

"How did I do that, Your Grace? Have I not served you faithfully and informed you of all the happenings of Westeros and threats against you in Meereen as you asked?" He asked in what was obviously fake confusion.

Daenerys glared at him. "You went behind my back and gave information to my nephew."

Varys opted to play the fool. "Your Grace, I thought that you had already forgiven me for prioritizing the King's life over telling you everything immediately?" He asked with a teasing smile. He knew what this was really about but needed her to confirm it for him.

"Cut the bullshit, Varys," Daenerys said in no mood for these mind games. She pulled out the letter from Jon and shoved it into his hands.

He sighed. "Of course he went to you instead of me. I should have expected that."

"Care to explain?" She asked impatiently.

Varys frowned but answered her query. "I sent a raven to Jon Snow as I'm sure you've gathered, I needed to be able to relay important information to him quickly. As your King, I assumed you would prioritize his safety"

Daenerys crossed her arms and glared. "You know that's not what I meant Varys. Of course, I want him safe. I mean what he said to you. About you being a warg as well?"

Varys sighed. "I'll admit I thought that King Jon might figure it out given that he is a warg but I didn't expect there being any chance that you would learn my secret by my actions. I had prioritized keeping the King alive, expecting him to understand my wish for privacy regarding this matter if he figured it out but it appears his need to gloat won out. Who else knows?"

"Just Arya." She reassured him. "I'm still not happy about you going behind my back about this. You could have told me that you wanted Jon to have a warged bird here so you could have passed info to him. I wouldn't have refused the idea, I would have gladly encouraged it."

Varys frowned. "My apologies then, Your Grace, I wasn't sure how you would take the idea of breaking a birds mind and worried that it would cause you to refuse to ally with King Jon. Arya had you believing that all wargs are mutual bonds that both sides enjoy, I didn't want you to believe otherwise."

"Breaking a bird isn't just an expression?" Daenerys asked, suddenly very concerned. Had he truly enslaved Rhaegal against his will? Broken her dragon and taken control of him? Was Aryae wrong?

Varys smiled. "Breaking a bird is quite literally destroying a bird's mind to leave it malleable to one's commands. The bird loses all sense of who it is, and a will of its own and is almost completely catatonic without a warg controlling it. The bird becomes no one, and nothing just a shell for the warg to use. I wouldn't worry too much," Varys said picking up on her fears. "Only simple-minded creatures can have their mind broken and even then it takes a powerful warg. King Jon is the only warg I've ever heard of being able to warg into a dragon, perhaps Bloodraven could have done it had he got the chance to try but he's the only other possible one. To break the mind of a dragon would require King Jon to be a more powerful warg than any ever before by many magnitudes. As much as King Jon has done the impossible, I'm positive that's even beyond him."

Was he being honest? She had no way of knowing. Yet, it made sense right? She knew a dragon was a slave to no man- she had said it herself even, time and time again. She had to evaluate this on what she knew not whatever suspicions she might concoct in her mind. She knew with almost complete certainty that Jon cared for her. She knew that Rhaegal still acted normally- or closer to normally at least, while Jon wasn't with him. Varys said a bird was catatonic without a warg inside of them. Rhaegal wasn't like that. She knew Jon was not like that from Arya, Tyrion, and even Turncloak. There was always the chance that Varys was lying but if so she would be the fool for now. She would not wind up like her father, jumping at every shadow she saw.

Daenerys knew that he was just trying to regain the upper hand in their conversation by teasing about breaking the bird and know hinting at the abilities of wargs beyond what Tyrion and Arya had told her. She did want to do know more, and unfortunately, that meant going to Varys and letting him have the upper hand. He was the only warg she had on hand who could actually talk to her. "How does that work? How does one choose what they warg into? Why was Jon able to warg into Rhaegal when as you've said no one ever had before?"

Varys smiled glad that he had control once again. "There are five factors in how one's ability to warg into something is determined. The emotional connection to the subject, their connection through the bloodline, the strength of the subject's mind, the wargs innate power levels, and the human's emotions when they are trying to warg." Varys explained.

Her brows furrowed in contemplation of what he had said. "Connection through the bloodline? That means what exactly? Is that how Jon could be Rhaegal if they had never met?" She asked.

Varys nodded. "As Tyrion said, Starks become direwolves, Mormonts become bears, Hornwoods become moose, Blackwoods become Ravens, etc." He twiddled his fingers. "I suspect that the bloodline connection is what drew King Jon to Rhaegal after his death as well as the intimate bond between a dragon and their rider that exists since the dragon's birth. Seeing as King Jon had just been murdered by his sworn brothers, his emotions were certainly extreme enough to power the connection even further. The Targaryens have historically never had a gift for wargs with Bloodraven being the only one in recent memory, and that was a byproduct of his Blackwood mother. Although considering that Bloodraven is likely the most powerful warg ever- aside from maybe His Grace, it's probably not a coincidence that King Jon is as powerful as he is. I suspect that the blood of the dragon and the blood of the First Men combined is a truly powerful combination. A pact of ice, and fire if you will."

"So warging is like being unburnt? It's a bloodline trait? All the nonsense that my brother spouted about keeping the bloodlines pure wasn't senseless?" She wondered aloud.

"It's a bloodline trait, yes. One needs to have the blood of the First Men to do so. I couldn't say for certain how much the bloodline purity has to do with the likelihood of the gift cropping up, it's an exceedingly rare trait and I've only met a few other wargs in my lifetime, far too few to accurately assess how much bloodline purity matters. I suspect yes though."

"Does the animal have a choice in what they do if warged into by one with a strong connection through blood and emotions?" She asked, needing to know for certain that Rhaegal wasn't being controlled.

"An emotional connection the animal will always retain some control over the warging. The human can ask the animal to do something, and even guide the animal's footsteps but if the animal really doesn't want to do something then the human can't force them too without destroying their mind. As I've already said, destroying the mind of a dragon is almost certainly impossible. Rhaegal's actions are entirely voluntary even if Jon is the one guiding him." He reassured her.

Daenerys nodded processing what he had told her, it wasn't a lot but it was something, she at least had an idea how her nephew's gift worked- presuming Varys was actually being honest with her, of course. Rhaegal was still Rhaegal even if he was also Jon. He was not a slave, a dragon could never be a slave. She had told all her greatest secrets to Rhaegal but he wouldn't betray her, he never had, and just because he was Jon as well didn't mean that would change. He could be trusted. She really had no other choice but to trust him, even if she didn't want to.

"Now that I know that you are a warg as well, no more delaying the relaying of information to me. Anything important, you are to tell me in private the moment you know. If you must wait to share it with the rest of my council than I understand but you will inform me of everything immediately and if you try to go behind my back again, and lie to me then I will kill you. You have just proven how replaceable you are." Daenerys said firmly.

Varys chuckled likely at the idea of himself being replaceable but eventuallysighed then nodded. "You might want to sit down, and make yourself comfortable then, Your Grace, there is somewhat old news that you need to know. I've been trying to figure out how to say this but now that you know what I am, I can at least explain in enough detail to hopefully present a manageable picture."

Daenerys ignored his offer to sit. "Go on," She urged him impatiently.

"King Jon had a summit with all of the Lords of the North. They proclaimed him as not only their King but the King of all of the Seven Kingdoms." Daenerys flinched at that statement. Was Arya wrong? Had Jon actually betrayed her? Chosen to steal her birthright? "They also reluctantly proclaimed you as his Queen, and equal in power at the insistence of King Jon."

"What?" Daenerys demanded harshly. Jon had tried to steal her power after assuring her that he wouldn't do such? She had thought that he only wanted to be her King Consort, Arya said he was clearly in love with her, and only wanted to be with her not usurp her. If Jon had wanted to take her power than he could have done so without her being able to stop him, he had chosen her as Queen and promised to bend the knee. "Your source is wrong Varys." She said confidently. There was no way that Rhaegal had chosen to lie to her about this, not something so important.

"I observed the meeting personally, Your Grace, I can assure you that I am not wrong in this regard. King Jon puppeteered the entire meeting masterfully. He had the North eating out of his hand and secured the North for the both of you. If he had desired to have the Kingdom for himself, he could have had it with ease, but he chose to make you his equal when he didn't have too. The North would have never accepted just you in charge, even if King Jon was your consort." Varys explained, once again easily reading her fears and doing his best to soothe them.

She wanted to rage at him and tell him he was wrong. She wanted to fly to Westeros on Drogon and burn her nephew alive for daring to suggest that he could be her equal. That wouldn't work, of course, he was unburnt after all- just like her. Did that make him her equal? In a way, she supposed it did. He was doing what he thought was best for her. She would have to make sure he understood that she would make her own decisions but it wasn't all that terrible right? She knew Jon like her was good. She knew he knew what was right. He had to be what she knew him to be. She would not be like her father and doubt what she already knew to be true. He was not Viserys and predisposed towards madness like her father and brother.

Another part of her wanted to scream at Varys, why did they all presume that she would go mad? They walked on eggshells around her half the time, why did everyone presume that she was going to snap? Because of who her father is? So what, she was very clearly not him nor was she her brother. Perhaps, that was why she appreciated Arya and Rhaegal so much, they were blunt with her and didn't try to soften the blow in fear of her mental state. They wouldn't lie to keep her happy as everyone else did. Although Rhaegal had never actually spoken to her, she did get that impression from him at least.

Daenerys finally took the seat offered. "Explain." She demanded. "I need to know everything. What are his goals and plans for the Seven Kingdoms? Why does he want to be King? Why did he name me as his equal?" She was grateful that Jon had offered to share his power with her, and now she had a kingdom already loyal to her but making him her equal, meant that he was the only one able to stop her decisions. It meant he could prevent her from breaking the wheel. She didn't think he would likely choose to do so but he could and she would not allow that to happen. If that had been his intention, then he wouldn't have proclaimed her as his equal, he wouldn't have offered her the power she needs to change the world. He would have no choice but to kneel, as he had promised- even if it was only in secret. She had to have the final say on all matters. People changed, she knew that. Viserys had once been kind and gentle with her before he had turned into the ghost of their father. She would not allow Jon to change his mind on their goals and stop her new world from being made a reality.

"First you must understand the context leading up to the meeting of the Lords. The day after he massacred the Bolton and Lannister armies, he took Rhaegal and flew to Riverrun to break the siege by the Freys. He freed Lord Edmure Tully, and after what my source assures me was an amusing exchange where Jon almost executed the Lord Tully for refusing to kneel to King Jon Targaryen out of loyalty to King Jon Stark; it was revealed that Jon Snow was made the heir of Robb Stark in his will and legitimized by Robb Stark." Varys explained

Daenerys could very clearly understand why Varys hadn't shared that with her yet. This was more than her wanting to make bastards equal. Jon had been legitimized, by a false King sure, but a King nonetheless. Everyone's constant worry that she was like her father, meant that they undoubtedly had feared her reaction to such news. It truthfully didn't matter though, it was a false King, and she had planned on making the legitimization irrelevant under her rule. All bastards would have a place in her world. He would not be an exception to that rule which is why he would be her King Consort.

"Go on," She encouraged him. This wasn't what she needed to know.

His mask slipped at her perfectly calm reaction, and he was clearly taken aback by it. He quickly regained his bearing and went back to being the jolly eunuch that he so often pretended to be. "Edmure Tully swore fealty to Jon Stark and proclaimed him as his King."

Perhaps she should have expected that but it was still causing her fears to crop up once more in spite of how Arya had smashed them so thoroughly. Jon already had a Kingdom for certain and the loyalty of the former Lord Paramount of another. His army dwarfed hers by now, and he also had a dragon even if she wasn't confident he, or Rhaegal could fight her. If he decided that he didn't want to give his power up to her, she wouldn't be able to force him to kneel possibly. She had no choice but to trust him even if she didn't want to. She did trust him- mostly but she didn't like having to rely on trusting him.

"At the meeting with the Lords of the North, Edmure Tully revealed Lord Robb's will. They thought it a conspiracy and King Jon made them discount that idea entirely when he told them that the will was rendered invalid because Lord Robb was unaware of his true heritage. Naturally, they rebutted his claim, after seeing his humility and Lady Lyanna Mormont proudly proclaimed him as King in the North with many other Lords following after her." Daenerys gave a small smile at that information, it was nice to hear that Lyanna Mormont was as loyal to Jon as Jorah was to her. Jorah's reasons might be twisted but the Mormonts were always loyal to those they claimed as their own.

"Lord Glover made a rather passionate speech about how King Jon wasn't just the King in the North but King of the Seven Kingdoms due to Lord Robb's will and soon the North had crowned, King Jon as the King of the Seven Kingdoms," Varys said quietly with a gentle tone.

It was what Daenerys probably should have feared but she already knew he chose to share that power with her when there was no logical reasoning for him to choose to do so if he was the selfish bastard a small part of her still thought that he was. This was a clever plot like one that Tyrion would have constructed for her, he had duped them into supporting him as King by pretending to not want it, or at least pretended to not feel worthy. He would be a good person to have on her side when it came to ruling. He had a good heart, and was as clever as any of her counselors.

"King Jon made it very clear that by crowning him, there would be changes to the world immediately- that he would break the wheel. His first priority was ending all arranged marriages, and giving women a spot in the succession line, equal to that of a man," Varys was quick to assure her.

That confirmed all of Daenerys's hopes and wants as fact. He clearly was committed to breaking the wheel alongside her as Rhaegal had sworn to her. The fact that he as a man had staked his kingship on making sure that women were equal and arranged marriages ended was more than enough proof for her. He was Rhaegal, and he was committed to shaping her dream world by her side, just as he had claimed as Rhaegal. Perhaps, they could be equals if he truly didn't plan on stopping her. She had always said that a dragon wouldn't kneel and he literally was one, why should she expect any different?

"He was quick to reassure the Lords that their current lands would not be taken from them just because they had an elder sister but in the future, it would always be the eldest child who inherits unless they marry into another noble house, in which case they. Naturally, the Lords protested his plans but their protests were completely shut down by Maester Wolkan showing them that the citadel's definition of slavery described the practices of arranged marriage. Lady Lyanna Mormont, Lady Gwynn Whitehill, and Lady Sansa Stark who all spoke in support of King Jon's verdict. Lord Umber used the opportunity to curry favor with King Jon, and also spoke on behalf of his plans. With some rather vocal encouragement from Rhaegal, all of their protests died there, and they all agreed to go along with what they had told him."

Daenerys giggled at that. It was so very like Rhaegal to interfere with the meeting, and provide the intimidation that was needed to make them accept what was being said. She was certain that if Rhaegal had spoken Valyrian, he would have done so when she needed him to as well. That would be one perk she would enjoy when she finally made the journey to Westeros after she knew Meereen was secure. They were moving towards peace but they still had so much more that needed to be done for her to be comfortable leaving the city in the hands of the Storm Crows and a small council of the city's elders. She wasn't even confident that she could trust the Widower to be loyal to her gold yet, Daario hadn't even been loyal to her gold and body.

Varys gave a thin smile before resuming his tale. "Lady Sansa was disinherited in Lord Robb's will so Lord Tyrion could never inherit the North. King Jon wisely left the decision on if Lord Robb's will would stand with the annulment of her marriage to Lord Tyrion, up to the other Lords of the North. Of course, giving them the illusion of a choice in the matter made them all too eager to disregard Lord Robb's will and let Lady Sansa remain the head of House Stark, Lady of Winterfell, and Warden of the North."

Daenerys didn't know how to feel about that. Arya certainly didn't want to be the Lady of Winterfell and she was next in the succession line now that Jon had learned that she was still alive. She didn't know Sansa at all really, much less than she knew about the other Stark siblings. Sansa made no sense. Arya had described her as spoiled, entitled, and airheaded from when she had last seen her. She sounded outright cruel towards Jon in most of her stories. Yet, Jon had appointed her of all people as his hand, it made no sense.

Tyrion had been married to her and lived with her for months but he had no real insight into why Jon would choose her as his hand. According to Tyrion, Sansa was largely shy, and malleable. She had never opened up to her husband nor did they speak much at all, beyond what was required in public. She knew that Tyrion had been bedding his wife's handmaiden and she hadn't cared much but that didn't tell her much about Sansa. By all accounts, she seemed like a terrible choice to serve as Jon's hand. The only reason she could think of that would lead to Jon naming her as his hand was that he was trying to buy the love he had never gotten from her as a child. That would seem to be very out of character from everything spoken of about her nephew in recent years.

Perhaps she should speak to Theon Greyjoy- Theon Turncloack, she corrected herself. That is what the North referred to him as, and it suited him fine. When Turncloack had first arrived in Meereen, she had eagerly spoken with him to learn about her nephew, she hadn't liked him at all, and that would never change. Now that she had Arya who told her much more personal stories of her nephew than Turncloak ever had, she had stopped speaking to him. His company irked her, and was something she preferred to avoid whenever possible. He was probably the only person who could tell her what Sansa was like, and what possibly might motivate Jon to name her of all people as his hand.

Or perhaps he wasn't. Varys was a warg now. He might have overheard or seen something that could hint at Jon's reasoning. It certainly didn't hurt to ask. "Do you know why Jon named Lady Sansa as his hand?" She asked curiously.

Varys shook his head. "I have my suspicions but nothing concrete, I'm afraid."

Daenerys rolled her eyes at his non-response. "And those are?"

"I believe that King Jon gave her the position in hopes of securing the Vale," Varys explained. "The first thing she did as his Hand was travel to the Eyrie to negotiate their loyalty for King Jon, in his bid for the Iron Throne."

"He's banking on her familial connection to Lord Arryn securing his loyalty? The same for the Riverlands?" Daenerys guessed.

Varys smiled mockingly. "Sure we can say that."

"Elaborate," Daenerys demanded angrily. "Why did he sent her to the Vale?"

Varys frowned. "Lord Baelish has a- uh history with Lady Catelyn Stark to put it simply. He claims he was the one to take the virginity of both Ladies Catelyn, and Lysa Tully. They grew up together and Lord Baelish's affections for Lady Stark were well known. I believe that his affections might have been passed down to her daughter." He said gently.

He was clearly worried that she would take it poorly and think that Jon had arranged for his sister to be whored out to Lord Baelish as she had been by her brother or something equally as ridiculous. Perhaps, if she had heard of where and who he had sent his sister to before learning of how he had already ended arranged marriages in the North she would have feared the worst but he had ended them so there was no fear that he was like her brother and selling his sister for an army. Sansa clearly consented to the deal, he might have possibly manipulated her into the situation but he had to have given her the freedom to say no. Sansa had the power to say no to Baelish, she couldn't be taken against her will. She had likely just used his feelings for her to manipulate him into doing what she wanted. Jon wasn't Viserys, she knew that. He was just cunning and a bit cold at times. How many times though had she manipulated people into doing things they didn't want to for her? She would be a hypocrite to condemn him for something she had already done.

"Did she get him the Vale?" She asked perfectly calm.

Varys blinked in surprise at her lack of reaction to the news of the former Lady Tully's relationship with Baelish. Was she being blinded by both her affections for Rhaegal and her nephew? Being foolishly optimistic that he was as good as Arya claimed he was? Was she only believing the lie because she wanted to believe it to be true?

Varys shook himself, and his mask was back in place as if it had never been removed in the first place. "He got him a meeting with all the Lords of the Vale- tonight in fact, in exchange for a squireship of the young Lord Arryn under King Jon, and a spot on his council given to Lord Baelish if they fight for him."

From what Daenerys had heard of Baelish from Tyrion, Barristan, and Varys; Baelish was nothing but a treacherous snake. He was not to be trusted at all and would sell you out in a heartbeat if it benefitted him. At the same time, if it got them the what- twenty-thousand knights of the Vale, didn't you have to take that risk? Daenerys didn't trust Yara Greyjoy but she still sat on her council, she had given them a hundred ships it was what was required of Daenerys in the situation. Jon would do the same, you didn't have to trust someone to work with them.

Daenerys cleared her throat. "I see. Tell me about the rest of the meeting with the Northern Lords."

Varys smiled and nodded. "King Jon turned control over the next part of the meeting over to Lady Sansa. She proceeded to give the Karkhold to Lady Alys Karstak, the Dreadfort to Lord Marlon Manderly, and the Hornwood to Larence Snow, a bastard of Lord Halys Hornwood who was legitimized by King Jon."

"Why give the Manderlys the Bolton lands rather than the Mormonts or someone who actually fought for him?" Daenerys asked with some confusion. The Manderlys hadn't shown up to fight for him. They deserved nothing for refusing to answe his call to arms. The Slates or Mormonts should have been the ones rewarded for their loyalty. Or perhaps even better yet, the Umbers who had kept his youngest cousin safe in their own homes, at the risk of their own lives.

Varys chuckled and then explained. "The former Lady Hornwood was a Manderly before her marriage to Lord Halys. He gave the Bolton lands to the Manderlys so he would be able to legitimize Lord Halys's bastard as a Hornwood, and give him the Hornwood without the Manderlys contesting his claim. This also had the benefit, of giving Jon the support, and loyalty of both Lord Manderly due to his new possession of the Bolton lands, as well as Lord Glover as he grew up alongside the new Lord Hornwood."

Daenerys hated it but isn't that what Tyrion had been so insistent on in her lessons on Westerosi culture? Those had evolved more so into politics lessons more so than culture by this point although they did in theory focus on culture. He had hammered one thing into her head repeatedly with blunt force. Compromise was the key to the politics of the Seven Kingdoms. She might want to break the wheel but she had to ride it first in order to do so. She had to use the wheel to the point it breaks under the strain. Jon had done what was the best decision tactically, even if it wasn't the one that she wanted to make or was the most moral one. Sometimes you had to sacrifice morals in pursuit of the end goal. Rewards weren't for the already loyal people whose loyalty would not be swayed by a material reward. You rewarded the ones you didn't have the loyalty to, to create an incentive fir them to become loyal. She should have never knighted Daario when he already loyal to her, at least his sword was. She should have knighted some other sellsword if she was going to knight any of them to make them beholden to her.

Jon had done what they desired to do, even if his methods were unfair towards the Mormonts who showed up to fight for King Jon, and were the first to crown him. He had given a bastard their inheritance, even if it wasn't the way she would have wanted to do it. Her lessons with Tyrion had been a reality check that she couldn't just force the wheel to break, as much as she wanted too. It had to be carefully deconstructed. Jon had taken the first step, and secured the three most powerful Northern Houses loyalty in the process. She would accept the moral loss considering how much the reward would help to break the wheel when the time came.

"Go on, Varys. It sounds like there is still much more to tell." Daenerys said making a note of the prolonged silence. He still hadn't told her how Jon had somehow managed to give her a crown as well.

"King Jon had made every single Northern Lord reswear their vows of fealty to both Houses Stark, and Targaryen; and all of their members. Once he had collected their vows, he segued into talking of the Others."

Daenerys couldn't help but shiver at the mention of the ice monsters her nephew had encountered in the far north. She had done some reading on them herself to know what they would be facing and it was terrifying. Creature's of pure ice that made any normal blade shatter on contact. Creature's that raised the dead from the depths of the earth to do their bidding. They were the stuff of horror stories, yet they were somehow real.

"He convinced them of their existence with a rather harsh rebuke about the dragon outside, the fact he was unburnt, and the holes in his chest that proved he had actually died."

"Holes?" Daenerys asked as her breath caught in her throat at the thought of it. She knew that he had died in a mutiny at Castle Black but the fact that his chest was forever marred by the incident was somewhat horrifying. She couldn't picture him with holes in his chest from the blades of his murderers- although to be fair she could hardly picture him at all, having never actually seen him except as Rhaegal.

Varys nodded. "I was as shocked as you are when I saw it. It is a rather gruesome sight. The wounds the killed him never healed at all, they look completely fresh on his body even if they don't bleed. There's no way that any can see him, and not believe that he had died. His scars made it impossible for the Lords to deny that the dead couldn't come back."

"He shared with them the two methods that he had discovered thus far to defeat the Others, and a third method that would also kill their army of dead men. Valyrian Steel and Dragonglass can kill the Others, and fire will kill the wights."

Of course, it would only be the rarest metal in the world that could kill the Others. At least dragonglass was an option but Daenerys would confess she knew almost nothing about it. Fire, and her dragons being able to destroy the wights was certainly valuable information. The Red Priestess, Kinvara was right, she and her dragons existed for a higher purpose. She was here to stop the army of the dead. Her nephew had likely become Rhaegal for the same reasons. The two of them were destined to save the world. Sure, they couldn't kill the Others with her dragons but they could defeat the largest portions of the army for them. The two of them would fly overhead seated on Drogon and Rhaegal's back and cut swaths of dead men down. They would be the Heros of the world in its hour of need.

"Do we know where we can find any of this dragonglass?" Daenerys queried.

Varys shook his head morosely. "Not yet, I've been searching but none of my sources have found any evidence of where any large mines of the stuff might be located. I can find little trinkets here and there but not near enough to equip an entire army."

Daenerys waved her hand and gestured for him to continue with his report of the meeting.

"After he had all the Lords convinced of the Others being something they needed to prepare for; he ordered that all of the dead, both now, and in the future were to be burned so they could not pose a threat when the Others came. He then announced your marriage agreement as equals, to silence the protests about the dead." Varys announced with outwards jubilance.

"Just like that? Completely out of the blue?" Daenerys asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Indeed. It shut their protests about burning their dead up entirely, and the lack of anyone speaking up against the decree by King Jon to do so made it appear as if they all agreed; and thus couldn't call King Jon a dictator when he did burn their dead later."

"The North as expected didn't take kindly to that news. Lord Glover claimed that you were just the Mad King's daughter. King Jon leapt at the opportunity and turned Lord Glover's own words again him." Varys said then chuckled fondly at the memory. "Lord Glover claimed that King Jon was not his father, or grandfather when he had crowned him as King of the Seven Kingdoms. King Jon claimed the same about you, saying you were raised primarily by Ser Willem Darry, and never even knew your father."

"Lord Mollen tried to use your marriage to Khal Drogo to justify calling you a foreign whore but King Jon shut him down immediately by insisting that you were sold against your will to Drogo, and if you were a whore then so was Lady Sansa. He fell silent after that."

Daenerys didn't know how to feel about that. On one hand, she was extremely grateful that Jon had defended her honor, and stopped the constant insults and accusations that she was her Father's daughter or just a foreign whore. On the other hand, he had just revealed things she had told Rhaegal believing it would remain a secret to the entire Kingdom. He had told them of where she had grown up, which was whatever. He had told she was raped, and sold by her brother for an army. He had revealed her weakness to their Kingdom. She knew his intentions were good but she hated people knowing of her weaknesses. She needed to talk to her nephew about what things about her needed to stay a secret, she didn't want people knowing that about her- ever. That was for only those closest to her to be made aware of. Or at least, it was supposed to be. Instead, she would be judged by all of her subjects for things beyond her control.

"Lord Manderly argued that the marriage was completely unnecessary. King Jon pointed out that by marrying you he was legitimizing his claim to the Iron Throne."

Daenerys had to squash down her old fears that she was just being used as a stepping stone to power by Jon. He wasn't trying to usurp her, in spite of his baseless argument that she was needed to legitimize his claim. He didn't need a legitimate claim when he already had a dragon, and possibly three Kingdoms had crowned him as King. She wasn't needed for him to claim power. He was just using the pretenses of legitimizing his claim to justify sharing power with her. That was his only reasoning. It had to be so.

"Lord Manderly fell for his trap, and claimed that King Jon had already been legitimized by Lord Robb so that argument was invalid, and the marriage was no longer needed. King Jon laid into Lord Manderly for suggesting he repeat his cousins mistake, of backing out of a marriage that he had already agreed to. He credited you for raising and sending Rhaegal to him and said the North owed you for killing the Boltons as much as they owed him. He waxed poetic about how you weren't your father but are good, and just. He claimed your visions aligned, and that you both want the same things."

Did they? She supposed Jon would know what she wanted the world to look like, and she knew he wanted at least some of it to be the same but he might have his own goals that she would not agree with. That was one of the many things they needed to talk about, luckily they could talk to each other now that she knew Varys's secret. She did appreciate him crediting her with sending Rhaegal even if it was a complete lie. She had claimed the same to her council in the aftermath of the battle so their stories at least aligned. The North would possibly accept her as one of them- or at least not just a foreigner or a southerner because of it, something that she knew from Tyrion was nearly impossible to have happen, but it was crucial with how bullheaded the north could be.

"He brought up how terrible the reign of the last three Kings was, and argued that the only reason they could do as much harm as they did was because no one had the power to check their power. He argued that a joint rule was a necessary step to ensure nothing like that ever happened again. If one of you two were to go completely mad, then the people wouldn't suffer for it. He made it out as if sharing power wasn't an option, the only question was who it was with." Varys explained.

Daenerys had never thought about sharing her power in such a way but it did make sense. Kings were just as guilty as anyone when it came to being a part of the wheel. If she didn't want to crush the downtrodden beneath their feet then she too had to submit to having her power checked. Perhaps having only one leader was another part of the wheel that she needed to break. Perhaps, Jon was right and she had to share her power for the wheel to break. If that was the case, then was there anyone other than Jon she would rather have as her equal? He was Rhaegal, he was a dragon. Only a dragon could be equal to another dragon. Yet- what if him having the power to check her stopped the wheel from breaking entirely?

"When Lord Holt tried to suggest that he only take you as his wife, and share power with Lady Sansa instead, claiming Targaryen's were mad and not to be trusted. King Jon shot them down immediately by pointing out that he along with the former Maester of the Night's Watch, were both Targaryen, and not mad; as were countless others before them."

Daenerys would have to thank him for shutting down that particular rumor, it had always been a bothersome one. Everyone claimed that Targaryens were a coinflip of if they would be mad or great. Even Ser Barristan had claimed such before. Targaryens might have slightly more mad family members than anyone else but their madness did not guarantee her own. She was her own person, not one pre-destined for madness when she was born. Everyone was savable, it was not her destiny to be her father.

"Lady Flint tried to argue that the stories of your actions in Essos, and your brutality against the Slavers. She claimed that he was being blinded by your beauty. King Jon pointed out that you've never even spoken in person before, so that argument was silly. King Jon argued that he did worse to the Boltons and the slavers were worse men than the Boltons."

"When they still tried to protest his decision, King Jon put his foot down, and reminded them of their vows of fealty towards House Targaryen which you are a part of. He reminded them that the odds of him claiming the throne were significantly higher with your dragons, and armies. He reminded them that you were no true southerner, and did not keep their traditions or Gods. He threatened to burn anyone who didn't kneel or treat you with the proper respect alive for it."

"Lord Umber hailed you as his Queen first, albeit reluctantly and soon every Lord had followed in his footsteps with some vocal encouragement from Rhaegal. The only one who was proud to hail you as their Queen was Lady Lyanna Mormont but they all bent the knee to you."

Daenerys smiled. It wasn't as enthusiastic as she might have dreamed but even reluctant fealty before they had met her was better than none. Once they got to know her and saw who she was, they would see that she was worthy of just as much respect as their King. If she and Jon were to be equals as it seemed would be the case, she would make sure she was truly treated as his equal. She would agree to call him her equal, and as long as he treated her as an equal the alliance would remain intact between the two of them. If he were to overstep his bounds and try to ignore her decisions or override them then she would break off their alliance and destroy him. She didn't think that he would do that, but she would make it clear to him that equal meant equal.

"I see," Daenerys replied. "Is there anything else that happened there that I need to know of?"

"That was pretty much the rest of it. The only other thing of note was Lady Sansa throwing an impromptu coronation for King Jon. He was gifted a crown in the shape of wolves and dragons that they lit on fire."

Why hadn't she been the one to think of that? She was the unburnt before he was. She should have cloaked herself in the pleasing warmth of the fires when she had first become unburnt. The Dothraki who had remained to see her burn Drogo had all bent the knee when they say her as unburnt. Would the Masters have never caused trouble if she had flaunted her untouchable status? Would the intimidation had forced them to her knees. Fear was a necessary component of ruling, and she had been lacking it since Rhaegal had left. Perhaps, this was a way to gain their fear once again. She would have to get herself a crown-like his, one of pure fire.

"It appears you have a raven to send to my nephew Lord Varys. I expect that you will inform me of the second that your raven arrives. It's long past time my nephew and I have a proper conversation." Daenerys said after a moment.

"It will be done, Your Grace," Varys said with a small smile.

"Good. I'll call a council meeting tonight, it's time that you share my newfound partnership with King Jon- as equals, and that we have the North's fealty, and support."

Varys grinned at the news that she had agreed in principal to accept Jon as an equal. "I look forward to it."

* * *

"So where did we leave off last time? I believe we had gone over the Old Gods of the North? So today, perhaps we should start with how highly the Northern Kingdoms holds vows, especially those made in front of a heart tree. Or perhaps we could dwleve into the traditiions and cultural celebrations that the North partakes in." Tyrion pondered as Daenerys sat across from him, and he poured them both a glass of wine.

They had been having these culture lessons for a few weeks now. They had been focusing down on every last detail of the North as she had thought that was the most relevant Kingdom with her husband and presumptive hand having come from there. The North was probably still the most relevant, but Jon had possibly secured three Kingdoms for them- as equals. That still sounded weird to her to say even to herself. Not entirely wrong, but weird.

"Why don't we discuss something different today. How about the Vale?" She suggested.

Tyrion blinked but nodded, having heard Varys's report only a few hours before at the council meeting detailing the happenings of Westeros since Jon's victory. She had publicly given him an equal claim to her there, acknowledged him as King even in public. That had been a hard thing for her to say but it had to be done. She had to learn to accept Jon as her equal in all things if she were to share the Seven Kingdoms with him. She hardly had a choice in the matter if she wanted to be Queen, and have the support of all of the Kingdoms Jon had gained them. She would accept him as her equal, he had already proven himself almost as remarkable as she was.

"Details or general overview?" He asked.

"General overview for now. We can revisit the details later once we know which ones are most relevant to us." Daenerys replied.

"The Vale is one of the most diverse Kingdoms in terms of culture. You have the mountain clans which haven't accepted the rule of the Iron Throne since the last dragon died. The extremely treacherous terrain made it suicidal to try to engage them in battle on land. That shouldn't be an issue for you, or King Jon with your dragons but they'll likely need to be offered significant compensation- likely in the form of armor or weapons as I offered them to fight for the Lannisters, a while ago or else be forced to their knees after so long being independent." Tyrion explained.

"The Mountain Clans already follow some of the rules you want to implement in your new world. They are firm components of the idea that everyone should have a voice in their governing. Regardless of their gender, age, status, or ethnicity."

"In other ways, they are a uh much more primitive society. They believe that strength is the most important thing of all. Conflicts are usually resolved through payment in blood money, and most personal grievances are resolved with violence. The mountainous terrain makes it impossible for them to grow many crops of their own, and getting farm animals up a mountain is too much of a chore to have farms of their own. As such, they resort to raiding, and pillaging to keep themselves alive."

"If they had an alternative method to obtain the necessary resources to survive then I presume they would cease those actions?" Daenerys guessed with a single raised eyebrow. They were just like her Dothraki, and Jon's wildlings. Misunderstood people who only knew how to survive one way. Once they were shown a better way they would follow.

"Probably," Tyrion acknowledged. They stayed by my side and fought for me while I was Joffrey's hand. They did no raping or raiding at that time, instead just accepting compensation in the form of weapons, and armor. They hold animosity towards the Seven Kingdoms but that's primarily just the Knights of the Vale, and they are just as much responsible for the poor relations between them as the mountain clans are."

Daenerys frowned at the mention of the usurping Lannister. "There is no probably, Lord Tyrion. I will not offer them weapons to continue to pillage the small folk, steal from innocent men, and rape young girls. They will change by choice, or by force. I will not tolerate any more of that from them then I will from the Ironborn."

Tyrion frowned. "I uh- I hadn't thought of that," Tyrion admitted in his daze as he realized how many lives his decision to arm the mountain clan raiders had hurt. "I'm sure that they will choose to change if they are still able to survive after they change and have all their needs provided for them.."

"Each of the mountain clans has their own quirks that are considered savage by most of the Seven Kingdoms. The Burned Men will likely consider you and, King Jon as Gods, and be the easiest of the men to win over to your cause. They worshiped an unnamed Targaryen, during the dance with some manuscripts claiming it was Rhaenyra herself and others claiming it was Nettles and her dragon Sheepstealer. They would risk their lives, walking through flames, and past her dragon in order to bring her gifts. From there they developed a tradition of when any man came of age, they would burn off a part of their body in the flames in homage to their unburnt god. The more useful of a part they choose to sacrifice, the more they are honored by their clansmen."

"They are an offshoot of the Painted Dogs, with the Burned Men being the ones who chose to see the unburnt as a god whereas the Painted Dogs only saw it as foul sorcery that should result in the death of the unburnt Targaryen. The split in a civil war with the Burned Men trying to protect the Targaryen, and the Painted Dogs trying to kill her. The Targaryen left before their dispute was finished but they still hate each other, and all magic to this day. From birth, they are raised to think that way which is why only a small portion of their numbers left that clan to worship the unburnt. There is likely nothing you can do to gain more than a handful of them as your allies, at best you can hope for them to stay uninvolved in your affairs- which would mean that just leaving them alone as if you show up some more will likely dessert for the Burned Men which would be an act of war in their eyes. Actually perhaps you should avoid visiting the Burned Men as well to avoid aggravating the Painted Dogs. As probably the largest of the mountain clans with nearly 5,000 men in total, they could be a somewhat dangerous enemy to have at your backs."

"The Black Ears are led by Chella, daughter of Cheyk. She's a uh- acquaintance of mine. I'd dare to say friend but she would take my ear if I did, and in spite of how misshapen mine are, I am quite fond of them. They don't believe in killing their enemies ever. They believe that such an action is cowardly and, proves that you fear retaliation. Instead, they take an ear as a symbol of their victory, and the loser's shame. If they are to be defeated in combat by anyone who refuses to take their ear, they are expected to cut off their own ear and burn it in the fire."

"Why an ear?" Daenerys asked, slightly curious. Why not a hand or foot, or anything else?"

Tyrion smiled and set his goblet down. "Leaving a foe in a position where they would not be able to attempt to avenge themselves to the fullest is still cowardly in their eyes. A hand or foot would leave them in such a state where they are clearly unfit for battle. The reason why it is an ear of all things is surprisingly symbolic for such a primitive society, as is their name."

"The Black Ears along with the Moon Brothers rebelled against the Kings of the Vale, when the Arryns took the New Gods as their own and displaced the Old Gods. The things that had once been sacred no longer were, and the weirwood trees were being teared up, in spite, of the protests of the mountain clans fell on death ears. They took the name Black Ears to represent the death of their Gods because their cries had fallen on death ears. They cut the right ear off of the Crown Prince Jonor Arryn because if he wasn't going to use his ears then he didn't need to have them. The tradition has lived onto this day and become an integral part of their society."

"The Moon Brothers have close ties with the Black Ears with the key difference being that they believe that only death is the proper method of vengeance and victory. They both keep the Old Gods even without a weirwood tree to worship as they now kneel in the site of the moon, the God that no one can take from them. They choose to live at the highest peaks of the mountains to be closer to their God, even though the land is even less fertile there. As such, when they need food or supplies, their raids are often against an entire village as a pack rather than a single traveler that they vastly outnumber."

"The Howlers are descendants of the First Men, and they worship the Old Gods. They earned their name because of the coyotes who they live among, and train to attack the passersby. I'll admit that with the revelation that wargs exist at least in the form of King Jon, I do wonder if they could also be some. All the members of the other clans that I spoke to about them, called their connection with their dogs strange, and closer than man and beast should be."

Daenerys knew by now that Jon wasn't the only warg. Arya, and Varys were testaments to that but she hadn't expected them to be as widespread as they now appeared to be. Did the usurper have wargs as well? She knew that she had unknowingly had one, and Jon was one. He might have more of them as well since most of the North had the blood of the First Men. The Vale appeared to have wargs of their own, and if Baelish was as cunning as Tyrion, and Varys made him out to be- he could have some of his own as well. Somehow she had been the only one who didn't know this open secret. It was discomforting to know that any bird she saw flying by could be a spy listening on everything that she said. Was it ever safe to say anything aloud again? Except she was fairly certain that Jon could read as a bird which likely meant that even writing wasn't a safe method of communication.

She sighed. She had to get a hold of herself, she wouldn't go mad with suspicion and paranoia like her father had. She would be cautious but she would just have to trust that there wasn't someone spying on her at all times. If that was the case, then no one would have secrets. She would have died by now if there were always enemy spies following her every movement. She had to believe that none of her enemies had the quantity to employ them in the manner it would take to use them as spies, and not just for instant communication like Varys, and Jon did.

"The Milk Snakes earned their name for their unique raiding habits." Tyrion continued, completely oblivious to her internal dilemma. "Rather then running off with and-or women they steal livestock while it's still alive. They'll steal cows when they're young, and raise them themselves to provide them with the milk, and cheese they need to survive. Their leadership is rather random, as it will always be the person whose cow produces the most milk that leads the rest of the clansmen. They have their own gods separate from those of the rest of Westeros. A serpent goddess who provides them with milk from her teat when her "children" call out to her."

"The Stone Crows are probably the tribe I am most familiar with. They were the first to swear themselves to me when I offered them weapons, armor, and glory. They are very much a warriors society with little in the way of honor but fight for themselves, and for the glory of battle. Their gods are particularly wrathful and violent ones. The strongest man rules the Stormcrows, and they are raised to value strength over all else. They are tenacious warriors whose experience in raids makes them extremely valuable as counter-spies. My father was only able to arrive with the Tyrells as reinforcements to defeat Stannis at the battle of the Blackwater because I had sent the Stone Crows out to harry Stannis's army and kill any scouts and outriders that he sent out leaving him blind to the enemy at his rear. Their leader is Shagga son of Dolf, a gruff man but he's a bit soft towards his friends. They will be won over to your cause, just by offering them bloodshed, and the tools to cause more of it. "

"I do not plan on offering them more bloodshed. Once I have the throne, there will be peace. No more raiding, raping or pillaging. They will abide by my laws or face the consequences of breaking them as will every other man. The Iron Born will stop their abhorrent practices, as will the Mountain Clans, and everyone else. As the Wildlings that Pr-King Jon has already acquired have done for us and my Dothraki have done. There is no place for any of it, in my new world." Daenerys said firmly. She wasn't just recruiting them to claim the throne. She was doing it for the good of the common folk who had been trampled by the wheel, even if it cost her ten thousand men to do so, she would not offer up the common folk as lambs to the slaughter in her mad desire for power.

Tyrion frowned. "I suppose I should have realized that," he sighed. "It appears as if they are likely to be your enemy then." He took a sip of wine to rejuvenate himself before continuing to tell her of the clans.

"The Sons of the Tree, and Sons of the Mist are rival clans who both follow bastardizations of the Old Gods. The Sons of the Tree believe that the Old Gods only speak through weirwood trees with the wind being the sound of their voice and not a separate element; whereas the Sons of the Mist believe that the trees are falsely being worshipped when it is the wind who does the speaking and the rustling of a weirwood are just the medium that the Old Gods chose to speak through. It's a small difference that doesn't seem like it should matter but to them it is everything. Never try to tell a man that their religion is wrong or they will be your enemy until your dying day." Tyrion said with a chuckle.

"The Redsmiths are a tribe native to the mountains who were taken with all of the religions coming with the Andals, and the Rhoynar both the Westeros. They keep all of the gods simultaneously believing them to all be one, and the same just different cultures representations of the same beings. They are probably the most similar in culture to that of the Knights of the Vale but their need to raid in order to have food of their own high up in the mountains means that they are constantly at each other's throat despite the similarities between the two groups in both beliefs and customs."

"I believe those are all of the Mountain Clans, would you like to continue onto the Knights of the Vale? Or perhaps go more in-depth into some of the clans? Or we can call it a night, it's already fairly late."

She thought about it for a moment. "Let's briefly touch on the Knights of the Vale before we call it for the night." She decided.

"The Knights of the Vale are similar to the North in a lot of ways, but in others they wildly differentiate. They are even bigger than the North on honor and speaking true but their version of honor is even more narrow-minded. They see honor as what the Faith of the Seven sees as honorable which is much less then what the Old Gods do. The Old Gods have no issues with killing if not done dishonorably, prostitution, or with women fighting, or even kinslaying depending on the context."

"The Seven are not as merciful with their decrees and "honorable men" follow them to the letter. The Faith of the Seven is in a lot of ways, the wheel you want to break. Slavery is an abomination to them but that is the only thing you both agree on. They consider prostitution, gambling, and bastardy among the vilest of sins. The honorable men of the Vale don't acknowledge bastards at all, cast out women who are caught with a man they aren't married too, and any man caught sleeping with a noblewoman will be given the choice of castration or the wall. They consider dwarfs abominations born from the loins of the devil. If you kill a man it must be done in fair combat. They believe that throwing two men at each other and making them fight to the death is the only fair way of the Gods determining a man's guilt. The Knights of the Vale are extremely bullheaded and stubborn, and like their gods are, they will not use common sense when faced with irrefutable proof-"

"I've heard enough for the night Lord Tyrion," Daenerys said cutting him off from his tangent. "We'll continue you this another night."

Tyrion had clearly had too much to drink or was perhaps just too biased against the Gods of her forefathers to accurately assess the situation. She would have to ask Ser Barristan or perhaps Varys even for more information on the Faith of the Seven. Tyrion clearly was too biased of a source when it came to that particular religion. If they were at all like how Tyrion had described them then they would be forced to change or be eradicated. She would not answer to Gods or men who demanded the wheel stay intact and she would hope that Jon would do the same as appeared to be the case. The wheel would break, there was no other alternative she would accept.

* * *

"Your Grace, a man named Jorah has returned and is waiting for an audience, he claims that you will want to see him immediately," A steward girl said quietly to her as she sat on her bench seeing the days petitioners.

Daenerys would have smiled had Jorah shown up even just a week sooner but now she likely already knew what he would have to tell her. He would tell her of her nephew's offer to wed her as equals. She would finally formally accept it, and when she returned to Westeros she would wed him. She had held off telling Jon her plan to accept his offer until now, wanting to have all of the inforrmation he had to share with her first. Perhaps, Jorah would at least have some new information on the Others and how to defeat them that she did not yet know. She would have the chance to actually converse with her nephew through Varys's raven once it arrived at Jon's location. That was more important to her than anything Jorah could share with her. She had expected him much sooner, but the winds had not been kind to him on his journey it appeared.

She wasn't sure that she wanted to see Jorah again. Her feelings were still incredibly conflicted when it came to him. One one hand he was the man who had been there for her at her weakest, when she had first been sold to Khal Drogo he was her only friend. On the other hand, he had spied on her and shared her secrets with Varys on the behalf of the usurper. Even after her dragons hatched and it became clear that she would one day be Queen so the usurper's pardon was completely meaningless he still sold her out to the Lannister bastard.

Then again, Jorah had remained loyal even after she banished him for his treachery. He had remained loyal to her through everything, and had even saved her life. Even after she stripped him of his name he still remained her faithful… dog. That's what he was? Wasn't he?

Her lessons with Tyrion had hammered a few things into her head that she almost wished she didn't know. She couldn't just break the wheel by force but had to use the wheel to break it, if she did otherwise she would always be the foreign whore enforcing her foreign ways on them. Regardless of what her actions were, no one would accept her rule, and the new world if she didn't pretend to pander to them at least a little. Even Dragons couldn't force people to change their minds, only their actions and for the wheel to break permanently she needed to reach the minds of the people- at least those with the power to reassemble the broken wheel.

That meant she needed to not desecrate the people of Westeros's gods and respect their traditions when it was not part of the wheel. She had to condemn men for the wrongs they committed in the eyes of their gods or lose their support. She could forgive and show mercy, but some things were truly unforgivable in the eyes of the gods and if she was unbiased; herself as well. There was one thing that the gods and as such the people of Westeros considered completely abhorrent and unforgivable; slavery.

Slavery was an evil that needed to be ended across the entire world; Daenerys knew that and she would live her entire life in pursuit of that end goal. Could she forgive the slavers who tore men away from their wives, and daughters away from their fathers? Could she forgive those who had beat men, until they were too scared to fight back or make decisions of their own? Could she forgive those who had used women as property and raped them without any consequence? Could she forgive evil and keep the loyalty of those who had been hurt by that evil? She hadn't killed all the slavers in Meereen, as much as she had wanted to do so at first because it hadn't been practical and would have only reversed who was trampled by the wheel. She wanted equality not a new version of the same wheel. She needed the masters, and former slaves to see each other as the humans they were, and not a separate species altogether because they had a different skin color, a foreign accent, or even just grew up poor. She had not forgotten or even forgiven their offenses, only chose not to pursue justice knowing that she couldn't have justice for that in Meereen.

Westeros was not Meereen. The punishment for selling a man or woman into slavery was death, or the wall not luxury. Slavery was the one thing that the Old Gods and The Seven agreed is completely abhorrent and unforgivable. She would be praised for breaking the chains of slaves in Essos, she had proven that she wasn't a foreign Esossi whore because of her actions after Jon had cleared things up. She would undo all of the goodwill she had earned as the Breaker of Chains if she returned to Westeros with a slaver by her side- a Westerosi one at that, who they knew.

Kinslaying was equally as unforgivable to the Westerosi gods but it wasn't the same. Tyrion Lannister had killed Tywin Lannister, and allegedly Joffrey Baratheon. In the three Kingdoms that Jon was securing for them, they were hated, and their names spat on daily. In Dorne, she would find more allies- if there was any to be found because he had killed Tywin Lannister; the man who had ordered the death of her niece and, her other nephew. His reputation as a kinslayer would hurt somewhat, no doubt, but they would accept him as the one who had murdered evil men. Not only that, but he had killed his father who had ordered his own death. They understood that not all situations were equal in kinslaying; at least the Old Gods sounded like they did. Barristan had made it sound like the new ones would as well, but those were his gods so he was expected to be somewhat biased. Tyrion was biased in the other direction and made it sound like there was no chance of appeasing the New Gods.

Even if having Tyrion by her side did hurt her ability to gain the loyalty and support of the more religious men and women or Westeros, he had value to her goals. Tyrion knew politics, he was clever and knew how to reasonably reach the Lords of Westeros. He had information she would never be able to learn by herself in a timely manner, and he had experience ruling all of the seven kingdoms that neither she nor Jon had. He was valuable to her, even as a kinslayer. Jorah provided no such value to her beyond his services as a bodyguard- one she couldn't even trust at that.

He would do nothing to help her achieve her ideal world in Westeros, nor would he be able to stay in Meereen. Using sellswords in her army would earn her no points in the eyes of the honorable religious men of Westeros, bedding one who happened to be a rapist- even less but she could leave them in Meeereen to protect her city when she was gone. Both Tyrion and Varys had advised such a course when she had asked them for the input. She didn't want Meereen to fall back into the hands of the masters and slide back into slavery, they were apt warriors who would remain loyal to her gold, and the fear of her dragons. Jorah she did not have such an easy solution for. He could not remain here when he made the people here feel less safe not more so.

"Send him in. I'm done seeing petitioners for the day." Daenerys commanded.

Jorah walked through the doors as Daenerys sat on her bench, sitting tall and stoic. He walked towards her and fell to his knees at the bottom of the steps. His jaw went slack as he gazed at her in something vaguely resembling worship.

Daenerys supposed that was a natural response for him with how he lusted after her. Although perhaps that wasn't the only reason he had that look. It might have something to do with the crown of fire she had on her head.

That was a new addition to her ensemble. She had looked into getting one shortly after she had heard about Jon's. The first one she had made have been gold, after she had melted down an old dining set that the previous residents of this pyramid had owned. That crown had sadly ended after only a few hours of use as it quickly became mishapen and unusable. The flames weren't hot enough to melt the crown by any strethch but they were hot enough to bend it out of shape.

Her next crown had been iron which served fine but it didn't reignite easily so she had to replace it regularly. She wasn't going to waste precious gold on such a frivolous expense so she was for now using rather plain ring shaped crowns that were thin and cheap to forge.

Still, she was hardly going to not wear a crown of fire. She was the unburnt after all, the first unburt. She was to be at worst an equal to Jon. It was only right that they both were crowned in fire. The crown had also done wonderfully in reinstating the feat element of her rule of Meereen. The Masters had quieted their protests once again as they realized that a dragon was still among them once again.

"Khaleesi," Jorah muttered in greeting as he stared at her in awe..

"Rise Jorah," She said calmly. "Tell me what you learned of my nephew while in Westeros."

"He's arrogant, rash, and a madman," Jorah said in a rush. "He deigned to call himself a King, and expected you to lower yourself to only be his Queen."

Daenerys sighed. Perhaps, it was not the best idea to send Jorah to treat with him, she had been so worried about sending someone who would stay loyal to her that she had forgotten that she needed someone she could trust to be unbiased towards her nephew. The moment Jon had brought up the concept of a marriage between them, there was no chance of Jorah being honest with her about him- he was a threat now to his nonexistent chances of being with her.

"Is he a Targaryen as he claims?" She asked already knowing the answer but she needed to know if Jorah would be honest with her. If he wasn't it would make what needed to be done much easier. "Did he truly come back from the dead?"

Jorah's jaw clenched at her dismissal of his claims about Jon. "He is," He acknowledged through gritted teeth. "There are holes in his chest that would seem to be evidence that he died or used some form of blood magic to recover from mortal wounds. He is unburnt but that could just be more sorcery."

"The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Ser Davos Seaworth told me that he was brought back to life because a little girl was sacrificed to bring him back. He seems to take after Viserys if he is a Targaryen, Your Grace," Jorah said in what was no doubt an effort to persuade her to reject her nephew. She of course, already knew all of this from when Varys had informed her or Jon's existence in the first place. Jorah was just trying to manipulate her with what he knew she hated, and make her nephew appear as an enemy and not an ally or equal.

"I am aware of that, Jorah. I sent you to get the measure of my nephew and find what he wanted, not to tell me how I should feel about him." She said with some anger. She was more than a little disappointed that Jorah had failed her again. Would she have believed his report on Jon if she didn't know that he was Rhaegal? Or if she hadn't at the very least met Arya? "Can you at least give me an accurate report on the Others as I asked of you?" She demanded.

Jorah shrunk slightly in his place at her rebuke but did not relent. "Khaleesi, he knew that the witch cursed your womb, how could he know that if not through magic? He spoke of how he wouldn't believe it and claimed your inability to bear forth a living child was because your previous husband was not Valyrian. He spoke of keeping the bloodlines pure like Viserys had. You have to understand, Your Grace, he is not like you even if he is your kin." He pleaded desperately.

Daenerys flinched at that. Jon knew how sensitive she was when it came to her inability to have children. She had cried to Rhaegal about how he and his brothers were the only children she could ever have. He knew how much the thought of it hurt her to bring it up, he knew that it was an absolute that she could never have children. Yet he used it to try to manipulate her into marrying him. He wanted to give her false hope so he could use her for whatever it was he wanted to use her as. He cared for her, and clearly wanted to marry her but why? So she could be his whore? So she could never challenge his claim as just his Queen?

Her old doubts cropped up once more. Was Jon just using her? Did she actually matter to him? Was he truly puppeteering Rhaegal against his will? Was Varys in on Jon's scheme? Was this simply him manipulating her around? She knew that Arya hadn't been in on it at least but could Jon be the cruel manipulative mastermind that Jorah saw him as? He was clearly attempting to manipulate her with that info. She knew that he wanted to break the wheel, but that didn't mean his intentions towards her were purely good. She had to at least consider the possibility before she risked herself by siding with her nephew, it would be foolish not too. She wasn't turning into her father by doing so, she was just being cautious as any good queen would be. That was the only reason she was suspicious of his intent, it wasn't paranoia. She wasn't her father.

"Tell me everything about your meeting with Jon, leave nothing out." She decided.

Jorah's faint smile immediately made her doubt her request. He was trying to manipulate her into rejecting Jon just as Jon was probably attempting to manipulate her into accepting him. Regardless, of what she chose to do she would be doing what one of them had tried to force her to do- the decision would not entirely be her own. She would be ceding control of her own life, that was something she had never wanted to do again after gaining it for the first time.

"He attempted to correct me when I called him Prince Jon and insisted that he be called a King," Jorah said somewhat eagerly. "When I reminded him that you were the Queen he had the obstinance to suggest that you were his Queen."

"We let the issue drop, and I asked him if he could prove that he was a Targaryen, and had died. He showed me his heavily wounded chest, and that he was unburnt." Jorah frowned at her lack of reaction. "He claimed that as the only living male Targaryen and more importantly the eldest Targaryen, and the son of the crown prince, he was the one who Westeros would choose to sit on the Iron Throne."

Daenerys couldn't contain her snarl at that revelation. Jon had used what she had confessed was her fear to Rhaegal against her yet again. He had tried to manipulate her by playing with the fears that he shouldn't have been able to know, if he hadn't used her connection to Rhaegal against her.

Jorah perked up at her violent reaction, believing that she was going to declare her nephew as an enemy, and not a husband. "When I reminded him of his bastard status, he claimed that he was the one who the Lords would choose in a Grand Council, even though you had the better claim. He then repeated his absurd notion that the two of you needed to share your power, as equals. He was no doubt was just trying to manipulate you into accepting his offer. He was trying to deceive you."

There Jon was again, throwing what she had told him in secret back in her face. Did he care so little for her privacy and personal boundaries? Was she truly just a pawn to him? "He claimed that his vision aligned with yours for Westeros, and referred to you as "My Daenerys". Jorah said putting extra emphasis on the possessive term.

She was her own person, she belonged to no one, not Drogo, or Viserys, or Jorah, or Jon. She was not a slave but a dragon. He couldn't try to claim ownership over her and then try to say that she was his equal. He couldn't be serious about ending slavery if he wanted to enslave her. Those things could not align, Jon had to be using both her, and Rhaegal to accomplish his own agenda.

"Your Grace," Ser Barristan said quietly. "You also refer to Rhaegal as your dragon."

That caused her to deflate, she was overreacting and being hypocritical. Jon was a dragon, he might simply refer to her as his for the same reason she called Rhaegal hers or she called Arya her niece. It didn't necessarily mean that Jon was trying to control her. The word my might not be implying ownership but relation. Perhaps it was just a dragon thing. His actions spoke differently, she knew that he wasn't a controlling bastard like Jorah tried to make her think. She had let Jorah get to her head, she knew Jon was good. His methods for getting her to agree might have been suspect, and she was furious with him for misusing her trust in him but he didn't have to be evil or a puppeteer because of it. She had to remain calm, and level-headed about this. She wouldn't let Jorah get to her head. She wouldn't go mad with paranoia as her father had, she wasn't him.

Jorah frowned at her rapid deflation and was clearly confused as to why it had occurred but he pressed on with his goal of having her reject Jon's offer. "I pointed out that it was tactically unwise for her to accept his offer of marriage since he had no armies to offer you. The bastard boasted that he would somehow control the North, and offer you two more Kingdoms as a wedding present. He has clearly inherited the madness, Your Grace," Jorah insisted.

Daenerys sighed. She wondered how Jorah would respond if she told him that his boast was not empty and that Jon did in fact all but have three Kingdoms to offer her as a wedding gift- one that she had accepted even. Probably not very well if she was to hazard a guess.

"He then went on to claim that because he was the bastard of a Stark, that you needed him to be seen as good. He tried to claim that having a kinslayer, Lord Varys, and slaves on your council would turn Westeros away from you and make them only see you as your father. He said you should accept his offer of marriage as he offers you a face. That you need him to rule peacefully."

There Jon was again, using her fears about never being seen as more than the Mad King's daughter against her. Could she truly trust him with anything about her if he was going to use it all against her? Did she want to marry and rule alongside someone she couldn't trust at all?" She knew that he was right, of course, Tyrion had made it very clear to her that she would have a hard time persuading them she wasn't just the Mad King's daughter or a foreign whore. She knew that Jon was right about him having an advantage in that regard, and a marriage between them would solve the issues he claimed that it would. He had still used her trust against her, in an attempt to manipulate her into making the best choice. She should have come to that decision as she had, by herself and not from Jon strong arming her into it.

She didn't doubt that the presence of Tyrion, and Varys on her council would cause her problems in Westeros, she had come to the same conclusion herself. Jorah had likely conveniently misheard the last part of it when he had said slavers referencing Jorah. She knew that Westeros would never accept Jorah with her, not a former slave in Missandei. They would have no problems with her outside of her being foreign. Or perhaps he had intentionally misspoken to turn her further against Jon or to not turn her against him.

"Is that all?" She asked with some irritation. "Can you at least tell me honestly about the Others?

Jorah nodded. "He said there were three methods to kill their army of two-hundred thousand according to the Prince. He claims that dragonglass, and Valyrian Steel can kill the Others, and fire can destroy the wights only. He wants your dragons for himself, Your Grace," Jorah explained. "He claims that the Others will find a way to breach the wall but he's already shown that his sanity is questionable so it's probably just the mad delusions of a bastard."

Jorah was making it all too easy for her to banish him once again, and reject him when she returned to Westeros. He was dismissing the existence of the Others solely because he needed Jon to be lying so she wouldn't marry him. So Jorah could retain his delusions of her returning his love. He infuriated her, how could she have ever been blind to Jorah's reasoning?

Daenerys stood to her feet brimming with anger towards Jorah. "I see, it appears that I was mistaken-"

"Khaleesi," Jorah cut her off with a smile. "The bastard gave me a letter to deliver to you detailing his offer, I suspect that it's filled with nothing but more lies but I won't betray you by keeping it from you even if it is completely meaningless."

She wanted to laugh at Jorah's optimism. She thought her anger was with Jon, that she had fallen for Jorah's manipulations. She was mad at Jon of course as well for trying to force her into this and manipulate her but her primary source of anger was with Jorah for his inability to put aside his delusions and do as she had asked. To give her an honest report on her nephew, his intentions, and desires. If he had been her only source of information she might have believed him, and declared war on both her nephew and Rhaegal.

"Hand it over," She said calmly. She was eager to hear what her dragon had written to her back when he had nothing to offer. Had he at least planned on telling her he was Rhaegal? Or was it only once she had intercepted his letter to Varys that he had pivoted course and decided to tell her? Would he apologize for manipulating her in there? Would he lie about himself to make her more likely to accept his offer? Would he manipulate her through more than just Jorah? Would he use every last one of her fears against her?

Jorah climbed the steps carrying a scroll with the red sigil of House Targaryen stamping document shut. He reached out to her outstretched hand and his fingers grazed the back of her palm before he placed the scroll in her fingers.

She pulled her hand away from his immediately. "You are dismissed Jorah, I will speak with you later." She said before averting her attention from all else but what Jon had written to her. She broke the seal and unfurled the surprisingly lengthy four-foot scroll as a piece of parchment fluttered to the ground a few paces from where she was, over by Ser Barristan's feet.

_Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the first of her name, The Unburnt, The Breaker of Chains, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Lady Protector of the Realm, Lady Regent of the Seven Kingdoms and The Mother of Dragons._

_Daenerys, first of all I owe you an apology, I can't say why at risk of this letter being intercepted but I'm sure that if you don't know why I'm apologizing yet then things either went terribly wrong or you'll know in a short time. With that out of the way, let's get into business._

_I know that you don't me at all beyond what Tyrion and Varys have told you so before I discuss my offer, it's only fair that you get to know me beyond the occasional stories that they might have told you. I'm afraid even as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch I wasn't of high enough importance for anyone to know too much about me._

_Let me introduce myself, I am Jon Snow, at least I think that is what my name is. It might be Jon Waters as my father was from the Crownlands, or perhaps even Jon Sand since Dorne was where my uncle found me. The naming customs have always been inconsistent in Westeros but I do prefer Jon Snow. Until recently, I believed that I was the natural son of Lord Eddard Stark and an unnamed woman that he refused to tell me anything about. I now know that I am the natural son of Lyanna Stark, and Rhaegar Targaryen and their union was not one of rape but mutual love. I've been told that they wanted to name me Visenya having expected a girl but I'm sure you can understand why I won't go by that name._

_Growing up, I was always told that I was lucky. I was lucky that my uncle acknowledged me as his bastard. I was lucky that he let me grow up with his children and didn't send me away as most men would. I was lucky that I was allowed to attend the feast at all being a bastard and I was being selfish by wanting to sit with my family and be seen whenever anyone visited. I was lucky that I was allowed to stay in Winterfell at all, and I was being selfish by being upset that Lady Stark treated me with more scorn than a Lannister. I was banished from Winterfell when Lord Stark left to serve as the usurpers' hand by the Lady Stark and was told that I was lucky that I was able to stay as long as I had. I was being ungrateful if I complained about being banished from my home. Every day I was told that I was lucky by all the adults around me._

_The sad part was that I was lucky as they put it. Somehow, being treated with disinterest, and outright disgust in some cases is better than most bastards ever receive. Most bastards grow up at best unaware of their parentage and in most cases despised by their parents and siblings. They are regarded with nothing but suspicion from all who come in contact with them and any kind-hearted action they take is psychoanalyzed to see how it benefits the bastard and not their intended recipient. The best a bastard can aspire to be is a hedge knight, a bastard can almost never hold land of their own or claim crowns or titles for themselves. The few that do try to claim things for themselves are vilified by everyone; one has to look no further than our own family with the Blackfyres to see that. I won't argue that Daemon Blackfyre should have been King, but he should have been given something- acknowledgment by his family, he shouldn't have been regarded with suspicion due to his birth station. Daemon might have tried to claim the throne but that was one man- one bastard, not all of them or all the Blackfyres. The Blackfyres shouldn't have all been wiped out because of the actions of Daemon the first. The world is unfair to bastards and no one with power is willing to take any efforts to change it._

_I refuse to let that happen any longer, I have been fortunate enough to be born into the one family with the power to change things. It will take time, and it will take compromise but the wheel will break, and things will change. The world will be rewritten as a fair place for everyone, where one's worth is not determined at birth but by their actions and character. We will break the wheel even if it takes my entire life because the oppressed who do not have a voice need it to happen, and if I don't do it then who will?_

_Apologies for going off on a tangent there, I know I said I would keep the politics of this out of it, until after I had finished telling you who I was. I grew up in Winterfell, unknowing of who I was. My eldest brother Robb was friendly with me and didn't despise me but we were never extremely close either or equals as we should have been. I was always beneath him and subservient to him, we were not equal in spite of our familial bond. He was a friend yes, but brothers? He was closer to Theon Turncloak than to me so that probably answers that question. I was thrilled to have his companionship as I had it all the same, and it was one of the few things that kept me sane in my early years. I will forever be grateful for what he had given to me then but things were far from perfect, and I probably shouldn't have been so content with just being a friend to him, but the teachings of everyone else was so ingrained in me that I took any bit of affection shown to me as more than I deserved._

_My relationship with my eldest sister was much more tumultuous, to say the least, although we're connecting more now. She took after her lady mother in that to her I was lower than dirt at the time. She believed that I was nothing but someone to be ashamed of and I'm not sure we ever had a single honest conversation before my death. I believed that was exactly as I deserved for being born a bastard, and in spite of how I was treated, I still believed it was my duty to serve her, to serve my family and I could never put myself first. I would humiliate myself if that was what it took to please her as that was my duty. We've both grown since those days but that was how I grew up._

_My relationship with Bran was the best of any of my brothers. Bran was young and didn't understand what a bastard was so he just saw me as the cool older brother who spoiled him for a while. We were never close but he treated me fairly, just like any other sibling and that is all I wanted. All I still want for bastards is to be treated fairly and not as disgraces or monster's._

_Rickon was too young for me and him to have much of a relationship due to the Lady Stark's overprotectiveness of him but he wasn't cruel at least, he never knew what a bastard was when I left for the wall. Now he does, but he still cares for me as his brother and is capable of seeing beyond what he was taught by society- or would have been had Turncloak not forced him to live on the run._

_Where do I even begin with Arya? She was my rock in Winterfell. She is the one who's always seen me as my own unique person and not a bastard. She's been my best friend since the moment she learned to walk pretty much. She would love you, if you ever have the chance to meet. I'm told that she is still alive but her whereabouts are completely unknown. She was always an admirer of the fearsome warrior Dragon Queen, Visenya. The fact that dragons have returned to the world would thrill her more than anything. She would likely pester me to go by Visenya if she knew what I was supposed to be named._

_She was the only one who complained when I had to leave for the wall and her for King's Landing. Robb, for all that he cared about me did nothing to stop his mother from sending me to the wall when he very much so had the power to do so. She is the one who first showed me that things were wrong in the world aside from the treatment of bastards. She was born a girl so she had no choice but to be a proper lady. She wanted to be a knight or a warrior but she wasn't allowed to be one. I had to teach her archery in secret, and I was the first one to ever give her a sword despite the younger Bran already being allowed to use training swords, all because she was born a girl. Some of the Dornish men at the wall say that in Dorne the women are allowed to fight alongside the men and are just as capable as any man._

_The rest of the world remains centuries behind the Dornish in that regard because rich men still hold all of the power and are in no hurry to give it up. Rich men who have profited from the system and don't know what it's like to be one of the ones trampled underfoot. The problem is systematic at its core and well we need to use the system to break the system we are not a part of the system. We were born among the broken and down-trodden and we know what it's like to be trampled by the wheel. We have the power to fix it and we will because we won't let others suffer the same way that we did._

_There I go rambling about politics again, I'd apologize but I expect it'll come up again, the wheel has unfortunately been a huge part of my life and shaped me into who I am today. As I was saying I was banished to the wall by my family, and it was a calling that I somehow had naively believed was honorable and good. I thought it was what I wanted to do. Lord Stark had raised me to believe that way, knowing the opposite was true because he wanted me to go there so I wouldn't be at risk if my true heritage came out. He didn't even tell me who my mother was before I went to the wall but instead promised to tell me the next time we saw each other, after I had sworn my vows. My Uncle Benjen tried to warn me that I shouldn't be so eager to join the watch but he was one of the few who treated me fairly and I wanted to be with him doing something that was thought to be a noble calling._

_Lord Tyrion opened up my eyes to the reality of the watch on the way there as I expect he has already told you. I chose to just accept it and live with the life that had been forced upon me; a decision that I will always regret but I was afraid of returning to Winterfell and appearing ungrateful._

_Unlike what Tyrion told me the wall wasn't filled with rapists, thieves, war criminals, and murderers; they were people just like me who had been trampled by the wheel of society. One of the men who joined at the same time as I did, Daeron was sent to the wall because he bedded a consenting noblewoman as a common-born man and her father took offense to that. My best human friend, Samwell Tarly was sent to the wall because his father didn't want a fat or girlish son as his heir. He threatened to kill him if he did not agree to take the black. Once again, the wheel crushed innocent good men underneath it because they didn't fit into society's preordained roles for them. They were left without a choice just like we were, and those are only two stories among hundreds at the wall and thousands across Westeros, millions around the known world who are trampled by society._

_In spite of being crushed by the wheel for my whole young life, when my fortunes were reversed and I was the one at an advantage I became a part of the wheel without realizing it. When I joined the watch I was arrogant, and entitled as I easily was able to best the other recruits in any challenge set before us due to my upbringing and prior training. I didn't hold back after Tyrion advised me to accept that I was a bastard and use it as armor. It was the first time I truly went all out, and showcased all of my skills not afraid of being judged or appearing as if I was trying to steal my brother's spotlight. I showed up every other recruit and instead made them feel as inferior as I had my entire life completely unthinking of who had taken my place on the receiving end of the spectrum. I made them all look terrible for things out of their control, and exalted in appearing better than them. I was a bully, who thanks to the well-intentioned words of Tyrion telling me that the Wall was not a nice place thought myself better than them._

_Donal Noye called me out on my hypocrisy and cruelness; when I observed what he had told me I found that he was right and I had become the very person that I once so despised. When Thorne had two of the other recruits gang up on Sam, Ser Piggy as he had called him, I stepped in on his behalf and tried to help him. He was just like me, someone lost in a world that wasn't ready to handle someone like him. I made an effort to break the wheel of the watch, to no longer have such huge divisions between the orders, to no longer have the highborn separate from the baseborn. I taught them all that I knew about combat and did my best to make sure that they couldn't be trampled by men like Thorne any longer. I was still the most skilled of our fast forming group of close friends but I no longer showcased it needlessly or just hacked at them without giving them a chance to learn. Every spar became a lesson for them and for me as well as I learned how to teach and be patient with men. I learned how to not be so self-centered. For all the troubles that the wall might have caused me and my family, those are lessons I am glad to have learned._

_The Lord Commander, Jeor Mormont took notice of the leader that I had accidentally become and assigned me as his own steward. I was furious of course having grown up idolizing my Uncle Benjen who was a Ranger, that was what I wanted to be more than anything- on the front line, fighting the good fight beyond the wall. Killing Wildlings, exploring unknown lands, I wanted to be a warrior, not a glorified slave. Stewards aren't slaves of course as I quickly learned but that was my thought process at the time. Even after learning that the other recruits were men just like me, who grew up in unfortunate circumstances that they had no choice in, I still saw them separately from myself. I still was entitled and felt it was my right as the best fighter to be a Ranger. Daeron pointed out my hypocrisy and how I couldn't claim that I was being treated unfairly by being made a steward when we were all at the wall for unfair reasons. He reminded me that the wheel doesn't let the world be fair to the outcasts like us. Sam made me see reason, and realize that being a steward wasn't the awful thing that I had mentally made them out as. He showed me that yes stewards had to tend to the Rangers, and Builders but they were not slaves. They still mattered, their duties were required to keep the watch functioning at all. He pointed out that Jeor was grooming me as his heir to command, by selecting me as his personal steward. In order for a man to lead, they must serve or they will never be able to lead effectively._

_I swore my vows that night before the Old Gods. I swore to be the sword in the darkness, the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the_

_horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledged my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for that night and all the nights until I died. I kept my vows even when it was near impossible, and died for it. Even now that I am freed of the watch after my resurrection, I still will keep my vows even if the how has changed._

_After my uncle was arrested by the false King Joffrey on false charges of treason, I lost my temper and attacked Thorne when he called me a traitors bastard. I tried to murder him, a part of me wished I had succeeded then even if it might have caused my life to unfold very differently. I was thrown in a cell beneath the Lord Command's tower for the night after my attempted murder, the high officers would meet in the morning to decide my punishment. I was sure my days of being considered for command were over with my inability to control my temper. The only companion I was allowed to have while I sat in my cell was my direwolf Ghost._

_Ghost might have saved the entire world that night when as I slept, he refused to do so. He woke me up in the middle of the night clawing at the door, the sound woke me up. The unnatural cold was the first thing I noticed when I awoke. I called out to him and he snarled at me, more hostile than he had ever been towards me. He backed down and managed to somehow tell me that there was someone outside the door. Why they left my cell unlocked, I don't know but they did. I poked my head out and the guard outside my door had his neck snapped with unnatural force and his empty eyes peered up at me despite him laying on his stomach. He was dead._

_Ghost ran past me towards the Lord Commands chambers and as I heard footsteps coming from above I quickly followed behind him. The door was already open and Ghost bound through the open frame as I tentatively followed after him. There was a man or at least a man-shaped figure in there with icy blue eyes. Ghost attacked him but the creature handled a direwolf like it was nothing more than a pup and caught him in his mountainous grip, try as Ghost might, he couldn't break free. Watching my closest companion die was not something I could tolerate so I ignored my fear and sliced the arm that was wrapped around my direwolf's throat clean off, the bone and skin giving way surprisingly easily._

_A putrid smell filled the room and to my shock and horror, the hand that was crushing Ghost's windpipe did not slacken it's grip even when severed from the creature's body. Thankfully Ghost was able to roll around and flip free of the hand now that it no longer had any support but the hand did not die. Neither did the creature that oozed black puss from the severed artery. I slashed at his face and took his nose and half his jaw clean off. He still didn't blink at me with his icy blue eyes. The arm that I had severed tried to rip at my pants and into my flesh. I pried it off with my sword and flung it away from me where Ghost was ready to pounce on the hand and break it's bones leaving it flopping weakly on the floor. The creature I had nearly cut in two charged at me once more._

_I cut into its neck with my sword but it didn't slow down at all. The thing slammed into me and knocked my sword from my grip as it tackled me to the ground. I tried to fight back but the man inhuman strength and without a weapon all I could do was flail. The wight jammed its corpse gray fingers into my mouth and tried to suffocate me quietly. I was helpless as everything I tried to do it did not affect the thing at all. I would have died there but Ghost saved me once again. He ripped into the creature's gut with his teeth and hauled the thing off of me. He couldn't kill the thing despite his gut being cut open and his insides seeping over the floor. The thing overpowered Ghost easily once more as I retched on the floor._

_The commotion had awoken Jeor Mormont who stood there groggy faced carrying an oil lamp. I'm not sure what spurred me on but I had a hair-brained idea to burn the thing, perhaps it was the Targaryen that had always been lurking inside of me. I ripped the lamp out of his hand flung it onto the drapes I had pulled from the wall earlier. The drapes caught fire and with a desperate prayer, I clenched my fist around the flaming cloth and hurled it at the wight._

_The thing burned and I somehow had miraculously discovered the first method to kill wights. All because Ghost had been restless, the Lord Commander and the watch survived that night, and we had a way to kill wights. The thing was the corpse of a former brother of the Night's Watch, Othor, who had been found beyond the wall on a ranging. He had been kept in the cells beneath me so Maester Aemon could observe him, on the mourn and try to find the cause of death. The corpse instead just brought more death until the flames burnt through it. I was given all the credit for it, as Jeor not only forgave me for almost killing Thorne in a fit of rage but gifted me the Mormont family sword for having saved his life._

_The discovery of the fact that a corpse could truly live again like was only told in legends led to the great expedition beyond the wall. Over three-hundred of us, more than half the watch went out to discover what had happened to the missing rangers including my uncle Benjen. We wanted to discover how a corpse was able to live again, and to put a stop to whatever it was._

_So we set out beyond the wall and shortly into our ranging Ghost found a stash of dragonglass buried by a tree. It was wrapped in a cloak of the Night's Watch and had dragonglass arrowheads within the bundle. Sam took to them as a souvenir and they later saved his life when he killed an Other with one by accident amusingly enough._

_We met up with the party from Shadow Tower led by the legendary Qhorin Halfhand and he reported that the King Beyond the Wall, Mance Rayder was looking to break the wall. Qhorin was to lead an expedition to break Mance's host or at least to find a way to distract him long enough for the wall to prepare to fight his army of over a hundred thousand off. Qhorin chose me to join him, Jeor tried to protest but I eagerly agreed knowing that I might be marching to my death._

_I think I might have wanted to die then, as when we set out I volunteered for some foolish reason to be the one to climb up the Skirling pass alongside another brother, Stonesnake so we could kill the Wildling watchers and advance on the army undetected. I had no real climbing experience and certainly not in the cold that one felt beyond the wall but I still wanted to do something so I volunteered to go. Perhaps it was fate or destiny._

_We made it atop the pass and there were three men there not two. I killed one before there was even a chance for them to move, there was no honor in that kill but it was one that I had to make. Stonesnake dispatched the other and I moved on the one sleeping as they awoke. I grabbed their hair and was prepared to slit their throat until I realized it was a girl. In spite of Arya being as fierce as she was, I had never thought about fighting a girl. The lessons that my uncle had given us all about how women were to be treated as part of the wheel kicked in and I offered her the chance to yield without thinking._

_Stonesnake angrily insisted that we should kill her, and even offered to do it himself but for some reason, I insisted that she was my captive. My uncle had taught me it was dishonorable to kill a downed opponent or a woman and I clung to them. It was completely stupid and irrational but perhaps it was fate._

_Qhorin was more cunning than most men and when he found that she was my prisoner, he insisted that she needed to die and I had to be the one to do it. He even said that they would all leave for a while while I did it so it would be easier for me. I'm sure he knew my resolve would fail and he was right. I let her go, despite it completely endangering our mission and being likely to cause all of our death. My honor that I clung to so desperately wouldn't let me kill her. She wasn't much of a threat with no weapons or horns so Qhorin let me make the choice to let her go._

_We retreated after we were spotted by a wildling scout. Qhorin ordered that I yield when the Wildlings came upon us. He wanted me to join them but remember my oaths. To spy on them and find out what they had planned, everything I could of the threats beyond the wall. He ordered me to do whatever it took to prove myself an oathbreaker, to not balk at whatever they asked. When they came upon us and the Wildlings had us surrounded I did as ordered and yielded. Qhorin made a theater of yelling at me for being a traitorous bastard. Rattleshirt refused to take me even when the one who I had spared vouched for me. He ordered a man to gut me but another argued that I should have the chance to prove my prowess and prove the truth. They told me to kill Qhorin Halfhand fully expecting me to fail and me to wind up dead as an oathbreaker. Heck- I even expected the same. Qhorin came at me snarling and we fought, with only one of us truly aiming to kill although he certainly didn't make it easy for me. It was when Ghost chomped down on his leg, and he twirled that he left me an opening for me to slit his throat. I killed my commander on his orders so I could lie and break my oaths only to break more oaths. That was when I started to realize that maybe being honorable wasn't all my uncle made it out to be. It was an impossible ideology that would and later did get me killed._

_I met with Mance Rayder and broke bread with him. When he asked why I would desert I first made him tell me his story. He was yet another poor soul trampled by the wheel of society. He was a man of the Night's Watch who was injured on a ranging and cared for by a Wildling healer. She stitched him up and even repaired his cloak with her finest red silk. He returned to the wall and they tried to burn his cloak that had been the Wildling's finest material and most treasured possession because it wasn't all black. He woke up and realized that his unique view wasn't helpful at the wall and he was only trapped there and deserted to join the Wildlings. I told him a similar tale when asked about why I deserted. I claimed that it was because as a bastard I had no place, that I was always made out as beneath everyone else even by my own family. I told myself it was a lie, desperate to be a good son and not a power-hungry bastard like was feared but in a way I was. I wanted to be more than just the nobody bastard son of Lord Stark or a nameless man of the Night's Watch but the wheel wouldn't let me._

_I was always a thickheaded boy who was slow to learn and well I was perceptive, I also knowingly blinded myself to things that I did not want to see. I tried to convince myself that the Wildlings or Free Folk as they called themselves were the enemies that they were not to be trusted or seen as human. Yet, I couldn't blind myself to the fact that they like me were just hurting people desperate for safety and a place to truly belong. It was there that I learned of the great threat beyond the wall, The Great Other. I learned the customs of the Free Folk and their culture. I learned why they planned on taking the wall and their desire just to have land south of the wall. I shut those doubts out and my belief that they were good in favor of maintaining my honor and keeping my oaths to both the Watch and Qhorin. Even when I broke my oaths and slept with a Free Folk woman I told myself that it was all for the purpose of my oaths and to keep my cover._

_We climbed past the wall with the intention of taking the wall from the south where it was not so heavily fortified. I wanted to help them but I wanted to keep my oaths not even because I believed that it was the right thing but because my honor demanded it. When I was made to kill an innocent old man from Moles Town who happened to have seen us, I refused and instead deserted, fled from the Free Folk, and went back to the wall. It was perhaps the stupidest decision I've ever made and it should have resulted in my death. I didn't even save the old man, he was killed after my escape and all I did was lose the chance of knowing when they would attack. I was shot with three arrows as I fled, I wasn't wearing any armor and I should have died but perhaps it was fate that I survived._

_We somehow managed to repel the first wave of soldiers at the wall, it was only a tenth of their army. We were decimated and had Mance hit us again we would have lost and all died. I was nominated to break another oath. I went into Mance's camp to treat with him, to negotiate terms where we could co-exist peacefully and if he failed to come to an agreement then I was to assassinate him as we believed that Mance was the only thing keeping all the rivaling Free Folk clans united. I would have forsaken the honor that had nearly killed me, and doomed all of the watch to make my mistake right, and murder a man in his own home under guest right. The same way that my own brother was murdered. I was prepared to carry out the task as I foolishly clung to my us versus them mentality. I knew that they were good innocent men, Mance was a good man who I admired deeply but I had to stay true to my word and remain loyal to the watch. I chose to betray my friends instead of the men I considered my brothers at the time._

_The impossible choice was taken out of my hands when Stannis arrived with his men having decided to turn his efforts north after the Lannisters defeated him in the battle of the Blackwater. His cavalry decimated the Free Folk army as they fled back north of the wall, or were captured, or even killed. I was grateful at the time for his intervention but how many men died so I wouldn't be forced to choose? They were not the enemy._

_Stannis offered me everything I had ever wanted, he offered to legitimize me as a Stark if I bent the knee to him, and left the Night's Watch. I might have accepted his offer had I not been given the task to convince Mance Rayder to kneel to him and he would spare the lives of the Free Folk if he did, and if the Free Folk agreed to fight under the direction of Stannis. I failed in my task, miserably. He actually convinced me to reject Stannis's offer. If I were to be made Warden of the North and a Stark by Stannis then I would have had a responsibility to my people; like Mance had to do what was best for them, and not to sell them for my own gain like the wheel promoted. Letting my people die to fight what I knew was likely to be a losing battle for a King they did not serve, a King who was not their own, they only wanted a Stark King, after all, it would not be right to betray them that way, and I could not accept his legitimization while planning to betray him. I threw aside my dream to do what was right even if I couldn't truly change anything as just a bastard in the Night's Watch._

_When the Red Witch tried to burn Mance as a sacrifice to her Lord of Light, I shot him with an arrow granting him the mercy of the quick and easy death he deserved. Somehow after that, I was elected as Lord Commander of the Night's Watch without even wanting the position. I was grateful for it though, for the first time in my life I was in a position where I could break the wheel- at least in the watch. I hosted Stannis and his men at the wall, gave them food from our stores and treated him with the respect his position demanded but I did not kneel. He demanded the Free Folk- that I offer them the gift in exchange for them joining his army but I refused him. Stannis wanted the Free Folk for his own selfish gain, not for their good. As Lord Commander I had to look out for all of my people; the men of the watch and the Free Folk we had authority over as the one who controlled the lands beyond the wall in name at least._

_I resolved to break the wheel in the watch, to remake the watch as a more progressive and accepting force but I went about it the wrong way. I distanced myself from my friends so I wouldn't let my emotions or their feelings stop me from doing what I knew was best. I forced things to change against the protest of all of the other men of the watch. I gave the Free Folk control of part of the wall, and began to let the Free Folk woman join the watch. I betrayed Sam's trust to do what was for the good of those who were powerless- apologies for being vague but I do fear interception still. I tried to give everyone an equal place at the cost of my friendships and losing the support of those already in positions of power. I made sure that people were treated fairly but it was too much too fast and even my friends began to resent me._

_My vow swore to guard the realms of men and the Free Folk were part of that. They were not the enemy but the Others and the army of the dead were. Against the wishes of the rest of the watch, I decided to bring all of the Free Folk south of the wall to settle in the gift. I was called a traitor, and scorned as a wildling lover but I wore their insults like armor. All a hundred thousand of the Free Folk that were gathered at Hardhome would move south of the wall for the first time as allies to the Night's Watch. I didn't want to give the Others any more men for their army so I offered them the gift for the Free Folk to live in and call their own lands with their assurances that they would fight by our side when the time came._

_I had waited too long to act, the Others swarmed on Hardhome the same day that I arrived. There were over one hundred thousand of us there but the wights outnumbered us. We had brought dragonglass just in case but it was discarded when the wights stormed our position and left in a burning hut. When one of the Ice demons of legend, an Other showed their face they cut through our army like butter. I desperately scrambled for the dragonglass as my companions died to hold it off, their blades shattering on contact with the thing. I couldn't make it to the dragonglass before the Other was upon me. I thrust out with Longclaw in desperation to try to parry his attack. I was shocked when my blade held against his own spear. He was shocked at well. I took advantage of the confusion and slashed at him once more with Longclaw and the thing shattered leaving only icy fragments behind._

_In spite of me killing one Other, there were still more and we had to flee. Only five-thousand of the hundred thousand Free Folk survived that day and made it south of the wall with me. The brothers of the Night's Watch thought that was five-thousand too many. I might have discovered that Valyrian Steel is a method to kill both the Others and their wights but we lost that day. After seeing the Great Other for myself I realized how doomed we were against such a large army even if we had saved all the Free Folk. As just Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and the bastard of Eddard Stark, there was nothing I could do to save us. I suppose my death was welcome in that way._

_I was betrayed by me own men who didn't take kindly to how I had run the watch nor my decision to let the wildlings settle in the gift. I was killed by five men who I had called my brothers, my own steward being the one who finished me off with a dagger to my heart._

_That should have been the end of my story but the Red Witch of Stannis played with powers beyond her comprehension. Stannis was so desperate for power, for his throne that he murdered his own daughter so the Red Witch's god would win him the war. She burnt Shireen Baratheon alive with her father's consent to give Azor Ahai victory or whatever that means. That sacrifice gave her the power to somehow bring me back from the dragon's den and into the world of the living once more. When I was placed in my funeral pyre a week after my death, I awoke. Having died at my post on the wall I was free to leave the wall._

_That is the short version of my life; admittedly not all that short know that I've written it all out. Now onto my offer, and why you should accept although ultimately the choice is yours. My time in command of the Night's Watch while I won't try to claim it was half the task of managing Meereen, but it was challenging. The burden was heavy and it took a toll on me. I have no doubt that ruling Seven Kingdoms by yourself would be even worse._

_Actually I can say with a fair bit of confidence that the stress of the burden will break most men. Your father snapped under the pressure and went mad. The entire realm bled for his weakness. He cost our family our throne because he had no one to share the burden and check his craziest ideas. No one could say no to him and the realm and we both suffered for it. Robert Baratheon was even worse than the Mad King in spite of not being insane. He didn't care about his citizens at all. He didn't care about anything. He plunged the once overflowing coffers into ten million dragons in debt. He lived in luxury while the common folk went without all because no one could tell him no or check his stupidity. The bastard who claimed to be his son was somehow worse still as instead of lacking any apathy towards his denizens he outright despised them. Sansa tells me that he ordered a man's death for throwing a tomato at him. He tried to kill a jester for wasting his time. No one was able to tell him no and the Kingdom suffocated under his grasp. War broke out between every kingdom as he was too stupid to play politics and defuse the situation instead just dousing the raging inferno with even more oil. While Joffrey is hard to top, the current bastard who sits on our throne is not much better. He empowered the faith militant to enforce the wheel. Men are flogged for laying with a whore, and women are killed for the same crime- it's legal too. Keeping the Old Gods or any God other than the New Gods is a punishable offense now and you can be prosecuted for it by the faith. The wheel spins stronger than ever because of the foolishness of the false King Tommen._

_I know you aren't like them, that you are not most men and if anyone can handle the burdens of ruling alone it is you. Power has a tendency to corrupt however and while I think the odds are infinitesimal that either of us is completely corrupted by power to the point where we forget who we are at heart, and the ways the world needs to be; I do not want to take the chance. Our visions align for the world we both want a free, and equal world for everyone both base and noble-born, men and women, trueborn or bastard. So let's do it together._

_If we leave the world with the same system we were born into with one man ruling all than all it takes is one bad egg in line for the throne to undo all the progress that we've made with our lives. Having two people sharing power equally, their decisions jointly decided means that for our work to be undone two of our children need to go bad at the same time, the odds of that are much smaller._

_Even if I wanted to bend the knee to you, I can't. The North will only follow you because they follow me and I expect the rest of my Kingdoms will think in a similar fashion. If I kneel they will desert me and scorn you as a whore who seduced me to kneel. That wouldn't be true in this hypothetical but it is what they would think. We need the seven Kingdom united when the time comes and we will not have that if I bend the knee. Westeros can not survive another dance of the dragons; certainly not now and neither of us is selfish enough to cause that so we can have the throne solely to ourselves. I don't want to bend the knee to you and I am sure you feel the same way about me. We are dragons and dragons don't bow to anyone; neither gods nor men._

_We cannot break the wheel overnight as much as I wish that we could. I tried that at the wall and it led to my death. We have to compromise to get the wheel to break and people to accept it as the new reality and not rebel. We have to be slow and play the game to remove the wheel without men noticing it will take time and it will take patience but one day the wheel and the axel it swivels on will break and the world will change forever. However, that can not be our priority at this time. We have to remain focused on the threat beyond the wall above all else. The wheel can not break if there is no society anymore._

_I know that you want to end slavery in the entire world, a vision that I share as well but we are needed most in Westeros right now. Slavery will end across all of the known world in all of its various forms before the day we die but slavery will still be able to end in ten years. Or if it can't end in ten years then it's because it has already ended. I hate to leave men suffering in chains as well but if we stay focused on Essos then there will be no Westeros when we finally are done breaking off their chains. The Others are coming, when exactly I can not say but it is only a matter of time. We need the realm united if we want to stand against their army of at least two-hundred thousand wights and survival has to be our first priority._

_I urge you to come to Westeros with haste and turn your focus to breaking the wheel here first. Women will have an equal place in the line of inheritance to the sons and they will not be judged by separate standards as men. Unfortunately, snow and sand as much as I would love to give them a place are too radical to focus on now without losing the support that we need for the great war. Slavery will end in Westeros, truly end in all of its forms. Sansa was sold as a slave to her husband just like you were sold to your Khal. Arranged marriages will end as they are nothing but glorified slavery. Every woman will have the right to choose their own husband for whatever reason they choose to marry be it love or political._

_Every woman includes you. I want to marry you. I won't deny that. Everything I've heard and seen of you indicates that you are an incredibly strong woman and one who I would be proud to call my wife. I want to keep the blood of the dragon strong in the world, so our children can carry our gifts as well and a union between us would ensure that is the case. I know you believe yourself barren but I won't accept that as fact when there is a history of Targaryen woman birthing stillborns when with non Valyrian men. I don't believe that some witch and her sheep gods can defeat a dragon, and I never will. If you don't feel the same about me, or just refuse to marry at all I will begrudgingly accept it. The offer of ruling as equals is not one conditional on marriage. It will be easier for everyone to accept if it is one of marriage and it will prevent the other's spouse from trying to usurp our place but if you can not accept an offer of marriage after what your first one entailed then it does not mean war between the two of us. My preference is very strongly for marriage but ultimately it will be your decision, not mine. If we are to be equals we must decide these things together._

_Whatever you decide I eagerly await your return to Westeros, and I am eager to rule by your side. Please do make haste when finishing your business in Meereen or it might be too late. We will break the wheel and build a new world together, a better world, and a free world. Once again I apologize but I had no choice._

_Yours,_

_Jon_

Daenerys set the letter down and sighed. She was glad to know all that he had told her and that he had shared his life and experiences beneath the wheel. She had known much of the stuff before he had left for the wall already but it was good to hear it from him. She was extremely glad to know of what had happened at the wall beyond the readily accessible public information on Jon. She knew for certain that he was sincere in his desire to break the wheel and that the why beyond it went beyond him desiring her.

There was one thing that still bothered her about everything that he had said. He had failed to mention that he was Rhaegal to her. Had he ever planned on telling her? He might have apologized for something but she was not at all certain as to what that was. Was it him being Rhaegal? Or was it him summoning Rhaegal? She suspected it was likely the latter.

His words reeked of manipulation, things she had told Rhaegal used against her. Things that she said that he used as if they were his own words to convince her they were like-minded. She was sure that he felt most of what he had said were true and it was just the word choice that was intentionally manipulative. Would she have accepted his offer if she didn't know he was Rhaegal? She would have at least given it serious consideration considering how their visions for the world seemed to align. Would he have ever told her if she had? Or would he manipulate her while claiming they were equals?

Paranoia was understandable considering what had happened to him and she understood that if news got out of his connection to Rhaegal then he and Rhaegal both could have died at Last Hearth and she would truly be alone again. His paranoia was justifiable but he didn't even give her a hint of his connection to Rhaegal. Surely he could have said something cryptic that only she would understand to show their connection. If he had even made a token effort she would accept his need for caution as just that and not intentional manipulation.

"Your Grace," Ser Barristan said drawing her out of her thoughts. He hobbled towards her and held out a small piece of parchment pinched between his forefingers. She took the slip with a raised eyebrow.

_Tell Lord Varys he has my express permission to share my source._

If she hadn't just read an entire letter penned by Jon's own hand and had a copy of it to peruse on hand at this very moment she might have suspected this to be planted by someone loyal to Jon and not her. "Where did you find this?" She asked Ser Barristan despite already knowing the answer.

"It fluttered to the ground when you unfurled the scroll, Your Grace," Ser Barristan replied honestly.

She pursed her lips. This didn't make her decision any easier. On one hand, she was grateful that Jon had told her he was Rhaefgal but the fact that it was a last-minute decision to tell her and apparently only once he learned that Varys knew who or rather what he was that made it hard not to suspect his intentions. Was it him latching on to the safe method of delivering his identity to her when it presented itself or was it him covering his basis so he could claim that he had tried to tell her if Varys blabbed about his secret.

She was torn and not objective in this matter. Perhaps she should take Jon's advice and consult someone to share her burden for once, even if it was selfish advice perhaps it was sound advice. "Ser Barristan," She called out and held the rather lengthy scroll out to Ser Barristan. "Read it and inform me of your opinion."

She waited as Ser Barristan read through the entirety of Jon's letter to her. She idly wondered if Jon would be upset with her for sharing that and all the details of his life with Ser Barriastan. If he was then he would be a hypocrite since he had told the entire North of her rape at the hands of Khal Drogo.

"So what do you think of Jon's intentions?" She asked Ser Barristan once he had set the scroll aside.

Ser Barristan sighed wearily. "It is clear that he cares very much for you. He might have manipulated you but it does appear to be well-intentioned."

"How do you know?" Daenerys asked with some insecurity. "How do you know he ever planned to tell me the truth? His note could be an added precaution once he learned that Varys knew who he was. He could have always intended for me to never know."

Ser Barristan sat down beside her. "I suppose I could be mistaken but it wouldn't seem to make sense with everything he said in the letter. The first thing he did was apologize to you for an unnamed offense- likely him summoning Rhaegal or perhaps even for not telling you that he was Rhaegal since he clearly wrote the letter before he learned that Varys knew he was Rhaegal. He apologized again at the end of the letter it was clearly something that he felt guilty about."

"More so, he told you truths he had no reason to share. He gave you the truth in things that he felt he could share or at least some version of the truth in if interception of Jorah or him peeking at the note wouldn't prove catastrophic. Maybe his words were handpicked to appeal to you best on what he knew as Rhaegal but you have to see things from his perspective. If he didn't use his info to appeal to you and you were unaware that he was Rhaegal or had yet to meet Arya do you think you would have accepted his offer or seen him as nothing but a usurper?" Ser Barristan asked knowingly.

Daenerys sighed knowing that he was right. If he hadn't appealed to her using her own dogma and if she had been blissfully unaware to who he was like Jon had thought she would be in all likelihood then she would have rebuffed him as a usurper trying to steal what was hers. He hadn't used her fear of her own agenda being used to proclaim himself as King over her like he would have if he had malicious intent. He had done what was necessary to get hre to accept if she had been unaware and that was all, he hadn't tried to play with her emotions or make her feel a certain way.

He had brought up the painful memory of Rhaego but he had likely meant well with that as all it did was make her less likely to accept his offer. He truly thought that they were more powerful then the curse she had willingly subjected herself to in order to save her Khal. It was somewhat sweet but she would have to make it clear to him that it was impossible and he was not to bring it up again. She would not allow herself to hope in vain for the impossible. She would make it clear to him that as a condition of her accepting his offer he would sire a bastard to keep their bloodline alive beyond them. She would accept though, his letter didn't deter her from that course even if he had manipulated her. She was more sure she would accept then ever knowing who he truly was and that he still cared for the broken and downtrodden even after the time at the wall which she had known almost nothing about. They just needed to have an actually two-sided conversation first. Luckily Varys's little bird should be arriving in Winterfell soon.

"Thank you Ser," She said warmly, having made up her mind.

"I didn't plan on doing it this way but I guess there is no time like the present." She stood from the bench and rose to look down towards Ser Barristan. "Ser Barristan Selmy, I would do you the honor of naming you Hand of the Queen."

He looked at her in shock and shook his head in denial. "Your Grace, I-I why me?" He asked dumbfounded. "I thought King Jon had already named Sansa Stark as his hand."

She smiled at his attempt to deflect the post. "Jon named his sister as his hand; I will name a hand of my own as well. We will rule as equals and each have our own hand. I've chosen you as my hand Ser."

"Why not Lord Tyrion, Your Grace? He has experience in the post and a head for politics. I have no experience in that regard. You would be better off choosing someone else as your hand." He argued.

"Naming Tyrion as my hand would be political suicide due to his history of kinslaying; having him on my council at all will already be rough." She said with a frown. "I chose you as my hand because you don't try to play at politics and manipulation like the rest of my council and probably Jon will as well. I want someone that I can trust to be good and honest with me in spite of the potential political backlash. I want someone who can advise me on what is right, not necessarily the wisest course of action politically and you are the only one I trust in that regard. You also carry a reputation of being honorable that will help me to gain allies that I might have lost for keeping a kinslayer on my council although that is only a secondary concern. You've stood by two kings who completely lost the way and seen the warning signs. I need someone I trust to pull me back if I ever show the signs of becoming a part of the wheel and remind me of who I am."

Ser Barristan nodded with tears in his eyes. "If this is truly what you wish, Your Grace, then I will accept the position."

Daenerys smiled. "Usually this is where I'd pin your badge on you but I'm afraid I don't have it one me at this time. I had no intention of naming you my hand at this exact moment."

* * *

Daenerys knew that she had to do this but that didn't mean that it was at all easy nor was it something she really wanted to do. She wasn't sure why it was so difficult to send Jorah away but it was extremely hard.

Perhaps it was because he had been there with her from the beginning. When she had been sold to Khal Drogo he was there to guide her and teach her how to be one of the Dothraki. He had comforted her when she needed it and been her tutor. He might have been spying on her but it was hard to not remember his kindness in those times fondly. He had been her closest companion in the time after her first husband's death. He was even the reason that she had the companionship of Missandei and the loyalty of Grey Worm and the rest of her unsullied. That had been his idea to go get herself an army. She had been so hurt by his betrayal because she thought he was the only one that she could trust.

Perhaps it was because he had saved her life. She would be dead at the hands of the Harpies before she ever knew about her nephew's existence, and before he had become Rhaegal if Jorah hadn't been there to save her. She was repaying his loyalty and her life by taking away what she knew Jorah wanted more than anything. She felt terribly unjust in doing so but she knew she had to do so if she wanted to break the wheel. She wouldn't prioritize being fair to one man over getting fair treatment for thousands. She couldn't break the wheel without the support of the Lords of Westeros and she wouldn't have their support with a Westerosi slave trader by her side. All of the religions of Westeros correctly despised slavery, and religion was an important method to influence people.

Perhaps it was simply that he was the only person that Daenerys could be confident would remain loyal to her no matter what. If she lost all of her power, her dragons, and her possessions she was certain that most of her retinue would abandon her. If she were to somehow go mad like her father and become a cruel evil person than she would certainly lose all of her following. She was glad that was the case, for the most part, she wanted smart people to follow her not blind idiots or loyal dogs- if she went that way then she would hope her people were good enough to turn on her. That being said, there was something to having one person who would stay loyal no matter what and that was who Jorah was. She had banished him but he came back because he was in love with her. She knew that his love for a woman had led him to do horrible things before and he still loved that woman all that same. Now his love for that woman had transferred into love for her. No matter what, she would have Jorah's loyalty to her until the end. His loyalty might have been creepy and for all the wrong reasons but she did value it all the same.

"Khaleesi, you wished to see me?" Jorah asked as he entered her solar where she had been waiting for him for a few minutes now.

"Come have a seat, Jorah." She said without looking at him.

Only after he had silently seated himself across from her did she speak again. "I'll be leaving for Westeros within a moon's turn."

"I eagerly wait to return home," Jorah replied amicably.

Daenerys sighed and met his hopeful eyes. "You will not be returning with me to Westeros." She said quietly. "If I want to gain allies in Westeros than I cannot have you by my side-"

"This was the bastard's idea wasn't it?" He raged. "You can't listen to him Khaleesi, he is just trying to manipulate you into accepting his terrible offer. This is a trick, Daenerys do not fall for his lies." He reached for her hand that was resting on the table but Daenerys pulled away.

"This bastard is your King," She said coldly. It was so much easier to send him away while she was angry with him. "If you want to claim me as your Queen then you will show him the respect that he deserves as the man I chose as my King."

Jorah pulled back in horror. "Khaleesi why?" He asked in shock. "The bast-King," He quickly amended at her glare, "...has nothing to offer you."

"Jon has already secured parts of three Kingdoms for us both and he is Rhaegal- his rider. He has more that he offers to me than any other suitor. We will rule as equals and break the wheel beneath our feet."

"You claim that you are to be equals but he very clearly doesn't feel the same way. He's already making decisions for the both of you, you're letting him control you, Khaleesi." Jorah cried desperately in an attempt to stop her from marrying Jon and in a vain hope that she would return his feelings and also choose to spurn her entire Kingdom for him. She would of course never consider such a thing even for a moment, even if she did love him like he loved her she couldn't see herself doing that.

"This was not Jon's decision but mine. He's never even mentioned you to me." She sighed and wrang her hands together. "All of the people of Westeros are not at all tolerant towards slavery. The Old and New Gods both declare it to be abhorrent and reprehensible to sell a man into slavery. If I want to appeal to the Lords of Westeros I cannot insult their gods by bringing an unforgivable sinner with me and seating them by my side when they are of no real use to me. That would be the equivalent of me spitting on their gods just to show that I can."

"Please Khaleesi," Jorah begged with tears in his eyes. "I can be of use to you, I won't betray you again."

Daenerys looked away from his pleading eyes. "There is nothing that you offer me that I can't get from someone else who does not carry the same baggage. You are entirely replaceable and the people of Westeros will never forgive you. I can't keep you with me in Meereen because you sold some of the men in this very city into slavery. How would that change in Westeros? How am I supposed to convince the friends and family of men you sold that I am to be trusted and am not my father when I keep you in my company? I will be arriving in White Harbor, the North would demand your death, and if I were to deny them that pleasure then I would lose the support that Jon has gained for us both."

"Surely, I can stay, the faith will accept you when they see that you are good. You will already run into issues with the religious for keeping a kinslayer in your company unless you mean to leave Lord Tyrion behind as well." Jorah argued angrily.

"Lord Tyrion is a completely different circumstance. His father had planned to kill him beforehand and he was to be executed for a crime that he did not commit by his father. His father was the first to breach the rule so the infraction could be argued that it did not apply to him. More so, Lord Tyrion killed a man who was reviled in all of the three Kingdoms we currently command. They will overlook his kinslaying if only because of who that kin was. Tywin Lannister was not much beloved in the North. He could even become a hero for that action."

"You did not sell evil men into slavery who tried to sell you first. You did not sell men who were universally hated. You sold innocent northerners into a life of bondage and pain for your own selfish gain. Not only that, but you also ran from your punishment as a craven. Lord Tyrion serves a great purpose as my Master of Coin and he is not one easy to replace. You are. You have no value outside of your sword and your loyalty both of which I can from elsewhere."

"Please Khaleesi-" Jorah pleaded.

"Enough!" Daenerys cut him off with a raised voice. "My decision is final. You are hereby banished from both Meereen and Westeros. You have seventy-two hours to vacate the city before your presence here will result in your imprisonment and execution. If you ever step foot in either Meereen or Westeros again your life will be forfeit; no matter your reasoning, even if it is to save my life. Do I make myself clear?"

Jorah looked at her with sad eyes and bowed his head in defeat. "Perfectly, Your Grace," he muttered quietly. He rose from his chair and left the room with a longing glance back towards her as he exited.

Daenerys could feel a single tear run down her cheek once he was gone. She didn't regret what she had done and she wasn't sure how much she cared for Jorah but it still hurt to say goodbye to the only person who had been there with her from the beginning. She had a new beginning now, one as wife and Queen of Jon, her King and equal. Things were changing in the world and she had to leave some parts of her old self behind if she wanted to thrive in the new world they were building.

* * *

**This chapter was much longer then I planned. The first scene feels kind of needlessly lengthy and just a recap of the previous chapter for sure, but I do think showing Daenerys' reactions to all that Jon had been doing in Westeros is extremely important for her characterization as obviously it's going to shake her.**

**Almost as soon as Daenerys learned that her father was truly mad in the books she begins to doubt herself. Any action that might mirror something he had done she doubts. She's constantly comparing herself to him and trying to do everything in her power to not be him. For her being paranoid is something her father was known for so it's something she wants to avoid being as she fears it could turn her into him. Paranoia in her can be justified and a reasonable response but to her she fears listening to it because that's a defining trait of her mad father she very desperately does not want to become.**

**At the same time, she's obviously going to be frustrated by everyone else expecting her to go the path of her father. She believes that she is her own person, not just the shadow of her father. She fears becoming like him but she doesn't appreciate others thinking her as him. Anytime someone tries to call you something or treat you in a way that isn't you you're gonna get frustrated. She doesn't want to be treated with kids gloves even if she maybe should be sometimes.**

**We get some more lore on wargs in this chapter and how their power works. I believe this is all canonical but some things might be exaggerated. We know emotional connection matters as many skinchangers only skinchange into their familiars. We know bloodline matters as the Starks all bond pretty exclusively with their direwolves. We know that emotions matter as that is what leads to Bran warning Hodor for the first time. There are clearly different power levels of wargs and creatures are not all the same difficulty to control.**

**Daenerys and Jon will likely never admit it to themselves but their reasons for claiming power are not entirely selfless. They want to use it to make the world a better place, but they want to be rulers in an equal measure. If Tommen offered to enact their vision if they bent the knee then in all likelihood they would refuse- it's not just about their revolution for them in spite of what they say and tell themselves. Daenerys justifies sharing power with Jon at first as him being able to stop her vision but that's not the entirety of it. She also wants to be the one with all the power. She does have a bit of a god complex.**

**Daenerys does take issue with Jon sharing information that she didn't want known even if his intentions are good. She like most rape victims doesn't want her weakness and suffering made public. She wants to appear as the strong unshakable Queen and Jon by sharing the truth behind her relationship with Drogo ripped that away. Moreover, it's something that Jon learned from her privately confiding in Rhaegal that he used against her. That is going to sting. She won't turn against him because she would rather believe that Jon was misguided then that Rhaegal betrayed her so that is what she sees.**

**The culture session with Tyrion is primarily here to set up Jon's meeting with the Vale in the next few chapters. Tyrion has experience interacting with them and knows their people more intamantly then whatever Maesters wrote the books Jon was studying. Most of the background is made up or embellished from what the very little the wiki has on them.**

**Tyrion has an issue in cannon with not thinking through the consequences of his actions beyond his immediate self benefit. He employs the Mountain Clans and promises them better weapons so they can more effectively raid and rape the Vale men. The consequences of the Mountain Clans' rewards is going to disrupt the life of thousands of innocents who could have avoided the conflict altogether without his influence.**

**Tyrion is very much so biased against the seven. They considered dwarfs to be abominations and their ever so just trial by combat is what saw him ordered to die. He's a firm non believer in gods of any kind and the seven he is especially vengeful towards due to his personal experiences with them.**

**Jorah's character arc has evolved so much from what I initially had planned when I started this story. He can't have a place by Daenerys' side in Westeros there is no one there who would be happy if she kept a slaver and a traitor at that on her council. He can't stay in Meereen as a former slaver either so she has to banish him, even if she doesn't want to do so or else she can never be Queen.**

**I didn't plan on having Jorah give such a biased report either but it just kind of happened. I don't think he's being intentionally biased but Jon basically told him that he would be everything Jorah wants to be. He then spent two months stewing on a ship with nothing to do but think about their encounter. He doesn't have perfect recall and the more he thinks about it the more his anger warps the memory. He won't betray her by not being dishonest but he will misinterret his attitude and character subconsciously to portray Jon in the worst possible light.**

**The letter is a direct reply to the person who asked why Jon would care about breaking the wheel. The wheel has taken centerplace in his entire life as a bastard and a man of the Night's Watch. His word choice and constant mentioning of breaking of the wheel is to appeal to her but his goals are just as much his own.**

**Possibly the most glossed over fact in fanfiction is that wights canonically have superstrength. The book specifically mentions that the guard he found has had his neck snapped so he was lying on his stomach but his face was facing upwards. Snapping a neck is nowhere near as easy as media makes it out to be, one has to be in peak physical condition to have that kind of strength. Snapping a neck with your bare hands so the head lols to side takes insane strength, snapping the bone completely through so the head can naturally fall facing backwards takes superhuman strength. That isn't something any normal man can do. This might be a mistake by George RR Martin but the only other time we see this kind of strength showcased is with Ser Gregor who also does this at one point. Wights are not just reanimated people that can be overpowered by any knight. Even if they don't have any intelligence, they physically outclass normal people by miles.**

**Ser Barristan is a very difficult character to write. He talks her back down off the edge and is finally named as her hand. It's important that they have someone that they actually trust on their council and in power if anything were to happen to them.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter actually takes place before the next few chapters- at least the end of it chronologically. Next up we go back to Jon where he meets with the Lords of the Vale among other stuff. It should be out next Friday.


	28. Jon X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I forgot it was Friday yesterday, sorry this chapter was late. 

When Jon finally rose from his desk, his eyes were red from his tears, and it stung to keep them open. He had caused Arya's rape by selfishly leaving Meereen. He knew where she was now, and he almost wished he didn't so he could go on naively believing she was safe and happy wherever she was.

He wished today was any other day but the day that it was. He wasn't sure after this morning's revelations he would have the proper headspace to deal with a meeting with the Lords of the Vale and the cunning of Lord Baelish that Sansa had repeatedly warned him of. He wanted to curl up in a ball and weep for his sisters lost innocence, not to be a King who showed no weakness right now. He couldn't be that though, he had to be a King whenever he was outside the solace of his loneliness, and today was not a day where he could lock himself in a room alone.

Jon stepped into the privy and washed his face before taking a long look in the mirror, where his reflection showed a man he did not recognize. He looked the part of a King who could not be defeated and who could protect anyone from anything. Jon looked like someone who men would take one glance at and decide to back down from their intent to harm those under his protection. Had Daario seen him by his Daenerys's side or if he had just seen Rhaegal flying overhead, then it's likely that nothing would have happened to his little sister. He had seen first-hand how fear cut deeper than swords, and Rhaegal's very presence completely paralyzed the opposition.

He glanced out his window, where in the North, the sun had only just peeked over the horizon. He still had a few hours until he and Sansa had to depart for the Vale if they wanted to be there in time to meet with the Lords of the Vale. Jon needed Rhaegal, and surely he had enough time to go for a quick morning flight. Besides, a flight would explain the dryness and redness of his eyes as the harsh winds tended to make his eyes water. A part of Jon felt terrible for the way he was thinking- for turning to Rhaegal since his connection to Rhaegal was why Arya had been so hurt. He couldn't help it though, he needed to speak with and more so just be with his closest companion and best friend in such a time of emotional turmoil.

He set his crown aside and pulled a hood over his head before leaving his chambers and entering the quiet hallways of the keep. Most of Winterfell was still sleeping at the early hour, and it was all too easy for Jon to simply pull his hood up and sneak by all the currently alert members of the household as just another commoner. He didn't have the temperament to deal with people right now, nor did he want people to see how troubled he was.

He stepped outside the keep and felt the cold brisk winds of the North on his somewhat bare skin. He had little issues with the cold these days since he was regularly on fire, but without the pleasant flames on his brow, he was feeling the chill. It was more bearable but also more bothersome now that he was a creature of the fire instead of a man of the cold. He was always warmer than most people were, but he also enjoyed higher temperatures than the average man, and the frozen North was far below what he preferred the temperature to be. Still, he could easily endure the cold. He had done so for the entirety of his life as Jon Snow.

He walked through the streets at a brisk pace, receiving a few nods and whispers of "Your Grace," from those who still managed to recognize him without the crown and his hood up but was largely left alone. He exited through the city gates and rounded the corner to the clearing that Rhaegal had made his nesting place in Winterfell for the time being. It was possibly the only spot in the North where the ground was arid due to the intense heat radiating from Rhaegal's scales.

Jon patted Rhaegal on the nose as he approached him. "Hey there, Rhaegal. I saw our Daenerys this morning." He said quietly, knowing that his dragon would hear him.

Rhaegal's head perked up, and his bronze eyes flickered open and locked onto Jon's. He let out a quiet growl in excitement.

Jon shook his head and sat down on the ground leaning his back against Rhaegal's chest. "I was excited to see her as well," Jon admitted. "I was only supposed to take the raven to see Varys so he could inform me of the happenings of Meereen and in the rest of the world. I got distracted and panicked when I couldn't find my Daenerys."

"She was in a different room than usual, and she wasn't alone." Rhaegal perked his head up and twisted his neck to look at Jon. "Arya was there with her. My sister." He said quietly.

Rhaegal yipped in happiness at her having been found. He then tilted his head in confusion when he noticed how unexcited Jon was to her having been found and having seen their Daenerys again.

Jon closed his eyes, and his hands clenched into fists at his side. "She was raped because we weren't there. She came to Meereen wanting to meet you and your siblings, and because we weren't there to protect her, she was hurt."

"She was raped by Daario fucking Naharis. We should have killed him when we first caught him in my Daenerys's bed. We might not have known what he would do, but we had known he wasn't to be trusted, but we let him live. It's my fault that Arya was raped." Jon confessed to his dragon.

Rhaegal shook his head, trying to convey that Jon was wrong. Jon only scowled in reply. "Our Daenerys tried to blame herself for this, but she's not at fault. I made the decision not to kill Daario, not you, not her, and not Arya. It was my choice that made us let him live. It was my choice that allowed him to rape Arya." He buried his face into the scalding hot scales of Rhaegal. "Even Arya blames me. She hates the brother that was always her favorite because I left to save my own life instead of protecting her. I abandoned her when she needed me most."

Rhaegal tried to shark his head and tell Jon he was wrong once again, but Jon wouldn't hear it. "Let's go for a flight; I need to clear my head." He didn't wait for a reply before rising from his seat on the ground and walking over to the small shed held the supplies for dragon flights he had had built in the last few weeks.

He grabbed the leather saddle-harness thingy that he had made so it would allow them to fly and Jon to see through Rhaegals eyes without worries that he would blow away in the wind as they went at higher speeds. The harness wasn't a substantial size, and it's not as if it provided him any reigns to steer Rhaegal if he flew somewhere other then where Jon wanted, but Jon didn't need it to do that. Rhaegal could be guided by just a thought while in his mind. The harness was just a means to assure that if he warged while flying, he didn't get blown off his back and die.

He strapped the harness around Rhaegal's underbelly, who grumbled good-naturedly in protest to the strap on his scales even though Jon knew he could hardly feel it and enjoyed flying faster more than he hated having the harness on his back. He sat himself on Rhaegal's back and fastened his legs into the harness until they were tight enough that even if he were to fall unconscious, he wouldn't come flying off.

"Sovegon," Jon whispered to Rhaegal even though the Valyrian command was completely needless when he was on Rhaegal, and with a beat of his wings, they were in the skies.

* * *

Jon sighed as he finally dismounted from Rhaegal, the snow that had fallen during his flight crunching underneath his boots. He had stretched his flying on long enough as was; Jon did have things he needed to do today after all that he couldn't postpone even if he wanted too. He rubbed the smooth scales on Rhaegal's neck one more time and then turned away from him to prepare for his trip to the Vale. He left the safety harness strapped around Rhaegal's back, seeing as he would need it again in a short while there was no point in removing it.

He had needed that flight with Rhaegal, and it had been fantastic, but it hadn't helped as much as he hoped it would have- as much as it usually did. The guilt for what he had felt, for his part in Arya's current predicament, had been too crushing for him just to move on and forget about it for even a moment. He had tried everything to move past it, his flight had been more daring than ever before with high-speed dives left and right, corkscrews, and even flying upside down for a time. None of it had brought him the distraction or clear mind that he so desperately craved even for a moment. Rhaegal was his other half, but right now, the half of him that was Jon Snow was to hurt to let Rhaegal heal him.

Sansa accosted him the moment he walked through the hallway and into the mess hall. "There you are, Jon. I thought you said we were to meet here a half-hour ago to prepare to leave for our trip to the Eeyrie." She said in greeting with her arms crossed impatiently.

Today was that day, and Sansa had to come with him for this since Baelish was his main point of contact and influence. He needed her with him for this meeting. They would be gone for about a week or so, leaving Winterfell in the hands of Rickon and officially the Smalljon as his guardian although unofficially it was Osha who was in charge of Rickon. He didn't trust the Umbers at all but he did have to make small concessions and let them think he trusted them in order to retain their loyalty.

Jon forced a smile as his thoughts drifted back to the matter at hand. "Sorry, I went for a flight and lost track of time." The excuse sounded hollow to even his own ears even if it was the truth.

Sansa rolled her eyes at him, "You went for a flight? You realize that we are going to be flying for the next six hours, right?"

Jon said nothing in return, how could he explain to someone what his bond with Rhaegal was really like. He didn't go to him for the flying or the thrill of it but because he needed the company of his best friend. He was very much aware of what today was, which is why it had been so urgent.

"You and your dragon," she chuckled good-naturedly. "Are you at least prepared to leave? We don't have much time to waste if we want to make it in time to meet with the Lords."

Jon nodded. "I just have to get changed into my royal regalia, and then we can get going." He looked at her and glanced up and down her form. "You probably want to dress warmer as well. I've been told that the air is rather frigid up there."

She rolled her eyes again. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "I'll be fine, Jon, I wore this at the wall and found it perfectly agreeable."

"Aye, and it is colder up there then it is at the wall. We'll be far higher, and it is freezing up there. You'll want to dress very warmly, or our journey will be very unpleasant."

Sansa rolled her eyes once more. "If you are that worried, I'll add an extra layer. I'll be fine."

Jon nodded. "I'll get changed, and then we'll meet out by the southern wall to depart. I already gathered most of what we needed last night, so we should be able to depart soon. Say no more than half an hour. I gave us enough of a window so we would arrive early to the Eeyrie, now we will just only be there at the time we told Baelish we would arrive."

Sansa nodded in agreement, and they parted ways. Jon went back to his own bed chambers and changed into his normal Targaryen regalia that he wore for any semi formal occasion these days. The seamstress of Winterfell had it designed for him after he had taken up residence here following the massacre of the Boltons. The red dragon of House Targaryen was sown on his chest, and cloak with the faint outline of a white direwolf to represent House Stark embroidered around it. The direwolf was supposed to be grey if he was truly using the sigil of House Stark but white looked better on his black vest and Jon also thought that it represented Ghost- his previous other half who had died to avenge him rather than just House Stark.

He lifted his rather heavy crown and placed it on the top of his head. He placed a Candle to the always warm metal and watched in the mirror as it lit aflame atop his head. The rush of warmth that it brought to the cold and dreary north always felt incredible. He still didn't feel exactly like an all powerful Targaryen King with it on that it symbolized after his power and heritage had caused Arya's rape but he had to pretend to be that King today if he wanted to gain the loyalty of the Vale.

He exited his chambers and walked back outside in complete silence as he fell into his royal mask once more. He was the unshakable, fearless, powerful, and confident King. He was not the broken man he had been this morning when he had seen Arya again. He was King Jon of House Targaryen. The Unburnt, and the Dragon. The man who had conquered death not been powerless to even stop the rape of his sister.

He had beat Sansa to the southern gate even after her nagging him to hurry up. If he was in a better mood he might tease her about it but he just wanted to get in the skies again. He was more at home there then he was trudging through the dreary snow.

He walked back over to the shed round the bend and in the clearing that Rhaegal was laying in, impatiently waiting for Jon to get back in the air. He knew Rhaegal wasn't a fan of just staying still unless it was to sleep. Still, he understood the necessity of this.

He stepped inside the shed and hauled out for lack of better terms, a wooden box, attached to metal chains. The box did not have a roof and six feet long in each direction with ledges that served as benches lining each wall. It was designed to carry up to eight passengers, if need be although Jon had never actually taken more than one person before, it was still better to have seats available for every one he might need to transport simultaneously. The ledges were all fixed with five straps extending from the walls to lock around one's legs and waist and hold any passengers in the carriage as it would rock back and forth in stronger winds and could easily spill and precious cargo as Jon had learned while testing the design with the carriage full of only boulders.

The back of the seats were cushioned at the suggestion of Maester Wolkan when he saw what the carpenters had whipped up for him. He had warned them that the jostling of the carriage could cause brain damage and even death as their heads thumped against the wood repeatedly in flight. Jon had quickly agreed to the very sensible suggestion from the Maester. A suggestion that he knew Edmure Tully was thankful for as even with the cushions he had complained about a headache when they landed.

One of the benches opened up to store any precious cargo that one did not want to lose during the flight from a strong gust of wind. The bench was padlocked shut right now by three separate steel chains and would likely remain so in most instances. That bench probably wasn't the most comfortable one with metal chains lining the sides of the middle and outer edges of the seats but it would serve both purposes he might need it for even if comfort wasn't optimal.

He grabbed the two iron chains and dragged them towards Rhaegal before kneeling on the grass beside Rhaegal and fastening the steel shackles that carried the chains around his hind legs. Rhaegal whined in protest at the actions.

Jon sighed and stroked Rhaegal's neck as Rhaegal nuzzled his chest. "I know it's not comfortable Rhaegal but I need to take Sansa with me to the Vale, so it's either this or she rides on your back with me."

Rhaegal sulked slightly but nodded in acceptance. They both knew which one Rhaegal preferred. He wouldn't tolerate a non-Valyrian on his back unless absolutely necessary, and even then he might not. There was a reason only Valyrians ever had dragons. "I promise not to make you do this more than is absolutely necessary," Jon vowed. "I know that this sucks for you."

Sansa had come over while Jon was fixing the shackles around Rhaegal's legs. "Are we ready to depart?" She asked.

Jon didn't say anything until after he was certain that the chains were secure to Rhaegal's hindquarters. He slowly stood and turned to address her. "We will be once I get you strapped into the carriage. There isn't all that much preparation required for a flight. It's not as if we need to take any supplies or rations with us on a few hour-long journey. Even if we did try to take supplies with us they would just fall out along the way unless strapped in. If we desperately need food on our journey then Rhaegal can catch something for us and we'll stop to eat."

Sansa nodded and looked over at the carriage. "Do I just pick a spot to sit and buckle myself in?" She asked somewhat nervously.

Jon shook his head. I'd advise you to take that seat, so you aren't upside down for most of our journey." He pointed at the seat farthest from Rhaegal on the back wall of the carriage. "I'll help you strap yourself in, at least this first time. As I learned when Lord Edmure rode in it, the straps are apparently somewhat confusing the first time using them."

She did as bidded and sat where he had pointed her to. He knelt down by her feet and fastened the first strap around her ankles. This should be Arya who was getting to ride on Rhaegal, she was the one who admired dragons after all. She would be so envious but because he has left Meereen, leaving her defenseless she would not have Rhaegal there to ride on.

Jon shook his head to clear it of that dangerous thought path. He couldn't afford to think like that right now, he had to stay focused on gaining the loyalty of the Vale. "Remind me again of what Lord Baelish thinks I know of your history and relationship?"

"He is of the belief that you believe I see him as a surrogate father and have no clue of his romantic interests in me. He believes that you believe that it was Lysa Arryn who sold me to Ramsay before her suicide and he was forced to follow through on her word, that it was not his decision. He knows that I told you that he killed Joffrey, and that he saved me from the Lannisters with the intent of returning me to my aunt so he believes that you feel slightly indebted to him and trust him more than most people although I made it very clear that trust is not something that comes easy to you." Sansa recited once more. They had already discussed this numerous times while preparing for the meeting with the Lords of the Vale. He wasn't asking her because he didn't know but because he needed the distraction from the depressing thoughts.

He nodded as he moved on to the third strap that went just below her kneecap. "Remind me again which houses Baelish suspects will side with me regardless of how poorly this meeting goes?"

He could practically hear Sansa roll her eyes at his question. "We've been over this already Jon, Baelish believes that Lord Royce will stand with you regardless due to his friendship with our father. He is as father often said, in a lot of ways a man of the North at heart, just as much as he is a Knight of the Vale. Lord Corbray, and Lord Belmore will also stand with us along with, of course, Lord Arryn due to the influence Baelish has over those families." Jon nodded absentmindedly at the response as he moved onto the fourth strap at her thighs. "The rest of the men will likely be up to us to win the loyalty of and the Mountain Clans will be you entirely on your own since you insist on reaching out to them." Sansa said with the slightest hit of disdain. "With the forces that Baelish provides us, and House Royce we will at worst have upwards of 6,000 Valemen to fight on your behalf. The absolute best-case outcome is we leave next week with 40,000 men to add to our own army although realistically we will have about half of that at most."

Sansa let out a hiss in pain as Jon tightened the final strap around her waist. "Must you pull it so tight?" She gasped.

Jon chuckled and stood up. "I can either tighten it or you can fall off and fall to your death while we're in the sky. I'll warn you that takeoffs and especially landings can be a bit jarring."

Sansa wrung her hands nervously. "I can't believe that I'm actually going to be riding on a dragon- well technically not riding on him but I'm actually going to be flying. I never even dreamed of something like this." She sounded almost giddy at the prospect. "This was always Arya's thing, dragons that is- not mine. She'll be so jealous that I got to fly before her."

Jon couldn't stop himself from frowning at the mention of Arya. She should have always gotten the opportunity to ride Rhaegal before Sansa and even Jon himself. Had he stayed in Meereen she would have gotten that chance and she never would have been raped. He could have kept her safe if he hadn't been so selfish and prioritized being crowned a King and revenge over her well being.

Sansa took note of Jon's frown. "Don't think like that Jon," She chided. "We'll find her. She will come home now that she knows it is safe. She is out there and will be with us again soon."

Jon's frown only deepened. That was the issue, wasn't it? He had found her and at the worst possible time. She was not safe without Jon there to protect her and all his fears had been confirmed true. Sansa was entirely wrong.

He glanced at her hopeful smile and a part of him had the urge to crush that hope, why should she be allowed to feel this joy when he couldn't? Then again she had every right to feel that hope since it was hardly her fault that Arya had been raped unlike him. Or maybe it was? If she hadn't screwed up his original plan he wouldn't have thought he needed to call Rhaegal to him at all. He could have defeated the Boltons without Rhaegals help and Rhaegal would have been there to protect her.

Still, she deserved to know. More than he did at the very least. Although, it could also put her in the same dangerous headspace as Jon was currently in and they would be even more unprepared to deal with the Lords of the Vale. Yet there was also the possibility that Baelish would know of Arya's fate. If Sansa were to find out that he was keeping it from her then she would no longer remain loyal to him- it was even possible that her desire for revenge would exceed her desire to see her own self-interests met like it had with Ramsay Bolton. If he lost the illusion of Sansa's loyalty then he could lose everything. He had to tell her no matter how little he wanted to tell her, it was too big of a risk to not share the information.

He glanced longingly at Rhaegal before stepping out of the carriage and tossing the flaming crown down in the snow where it simmered and went out with a loud hiss as the cold wet snow extinguished the wonderful flames that warmed his brow. He picked up the crown and used the stepping stool to get back inside the carriage. He opened the chest under the seat closest to Rhaegal and stashed both his crown and Longclaw inside of it before relocking the chest with all three chains. He could hardly carry a sword on his hip while still being strapped to a bench after all.

Once that was done, he sat down to Sansa's left, against the adjacent wall. He wouldn't be able to tell her here where anyone could overhear and it would cause all kinds of questions about how he knew things if someone who didn't know Jon was a warg overheard the conversation. Luckily he had one venue where it was impossible for any eavesdroppers to follow them unless they were a warg themselves.

He sighed and bent down and started locking the straps around his own ankles. Sansa said nothing as he strapped himself in, likely aware that he would explain his reasoning once they were in the skies. She was very much aware of how much he enjoyed flying on Rhaegal's back and knew he wouldn't choose to not ride him without good reason. One he was strapped in he glanced at her face and was met by a single raised eyebrow in askance but she was willing to wait for him to tell her why he was in the carriage and not on Rhaegal's back.

He closed his eyes and gave Rhaegal the mental command to take off- slowly while in his mind. Rhaegal beat his wings and flew only a few feet up off of the ground, careful not to lift the carriage at all. He moved a few feet over and slowly up until he was directly over their heads and the chains were extended fully vertically without any horizontal tilt to them in any direction. This had taken lots of practice to get right using carriages full of heavy stones, and Rhaegal still had some difficulty doing it without Jon's direction but this was the only way. If he were to just take off normally then the carriage might flip upside down and their heads could splatter on the ground as they dragged along. As vexing as his sister might be at times, he did not exactly want her dead or anyone else that he deemed important enough to ride in here at some point.

Once they were in the proper positioning, only then did Rhaegal slowly lift them off of the ground. The carriage rocked unsteadily as they slowly lifted themselves off of the ground, and Jon's stomach lurched a bit. Rhaegal's back was steady and firm even under the most tricky maneuvers they tried to pull off. The carriage was completely at the mercy of the wind, it was unsettling for someone who had mastered the winds to be a slave to it.

They slowly ascended into the skies under Jon's guidance as Rhaegal. They climbed higher and higher into the clouds until they were probably a thousand feet above the ground and even to Rhaegal's enhanced eyesight, the world was miniscule beneath them. Only then did Jon pull out of Rhaegal and give him the command to fly full speed onwards to the Vale.

The carriage immediately shot back behind Rhaegal as Rhaegal built up speed and the wind Rhaegal carelessly battered through pushed them back like they were mere fleas. Jon was hanging sideways and the only reason he didn't slide down the bench was the straps holding him in place. Sansa was facing straight down at the ground almost from her position on the back wall. Jon would admit that he envied her ability to see the ground below as Jon's spot made it difficult to actually see anything but the blue sky across from him and the clouds that Rhaegal mercilessly punctured with his pace.

It was much colder in the carriage than on Rhaegal's back where he had the dragons superheated scales to warm him and the comfort of a crown of fire on his brow. It was also much louder. He had thought Edmure was exaggerating when he said that it was the loudest thing he ever heard, flying in that carriage behind Rhaegal. For whatever reason, it was significantly louder following behind Rhaegal rather than on top of his back.

He turned to Sansa and shouted, "I found Arya!" He could hardly hear himself speak over the roaring wind.

She mouthed something back at him that Jon could not make out at all.

He shouted even louder this time, "I found Arya!"

She mouthed something back at him once more but Jon still couldn't hear her at all. This wasn't working and this wasn't particularly a conversation that they should be having hearing only pieces of what the other said.

He closed his eyes and joined Rhaegal in mind once more. " _Slow down Rhaegal, and then stop and hover in place. I and my sister need to have a conversation."_ He told his dragon who huffed in annoyance but complied with his request. They couldn't just immediately slam to a stop or else the carriage would swing backward around Rhaegal's front and flip over which apart from being extremely uncomfortable, it would also make landing impossible. They had discovered that particular drawback of carrying the carriage while under the earliest testing phases of the design. All motions had to be slowed with the cargo or else it could be life-ending for those in the carriage. It had taken hundreds of test runs before Jon was comfortable transporting a single person with him. Rhaegal hated all of them but understood the necessity of it. This was something that could save lives one day and it would be much more convenient.

They slowed to a stop and the wind battering at their faces and roaring in their ears subsided to much more manageable levels. "So what is it that you needed to be up here to talk to me about Jon?" Sansa asked after a moment they both spent catching their breaths and waiting for the ringing in their ears to subside.

"I found Arya," He said quietly.

"What? You did? Where? How?" Sansa asked in a rush of enthusiasm.

Jon winced at her enthusiasm. "She's in Meereen with Daenerys. She'll join us in Westeros when Daenerys does."

"Are you certain your source is correct? That this is really her and not some imposter pretending to be her for their own gain?" Sansa asked hesitantly.

Jon nodded. "I know it's her, I saw her with my own eyes."

Sansa flinched back. "Are you saying that you've known this for months? That you knew before your dragon came here and just didn't say anything? Why would you not tell me?" She demanded in anger.

Jon shook his head. "Gods no," Jon quickly denied. "I know we've had our issues but I wouldn't keep something like that from you, she's your sister." _More so than mine at least, you didn't let her be raped._ "I only learned this morning."

"How could you have seen her in Meereen if you only just learned of her being there? I thought your only warg spies were positioned in Kings Landing and at the Twins right now?" Sansa questioned somewhat suspiciously.

"I sent a single raven to Meereen. Lord Varys planned to use one to transmit any valuable urgent intel to me through a secure channel." He sighed and glanced away from her. "That raven arrived today and I got a bit sidetracked on the way to him. She was talking with my Daenerys, I saw her and heard her speak. She spoke to me."

He avoided Sansa's gaze and gazed down at the ground hundreds of feet below them instead. He didn't need to see her excitement when he dashed it. He could stay disconnected here and just give an informative report. He focused on the bitter chill of the wind. He could do this, he couldn't let his emotions control him now. He would tell her as he had to but no more, he would remain in control of his emotions. He was not a slave to them.

"Jon," Sansa said softly after a moment. Jon's head craned to look at her face instinctively. Her brows were knitted together in the same way they had been when they tried to figure out how to deal with the backlash of Robb's will. The same exact way it was when she had put the pieces together and come up with the optimal plan of attack. "Why are you so upset by Arya being found? Is this not joyous news? Did some- did something happen to her?" She asked somewhat fearfully.

He looked away from her once more. "Arya was raped before my Daenerys found her."

"What? Tell me this is some kind of cruel jest?"

Jon shook his head as his unwanted tears ran down his cheek.

Sansa laughed a cruel bitter laugh. "Father always told me that Arya and I would find we had more in common then we thought. I doubt this is what he meant though."

Jon said nothing. What was there to say? What could he do to make it easier for her to learn that Arya had been raped? He couldn't even handle it himself yet so how could he comfort her in this?

"Who raped her? Did your betrothed at least punish her rapist?" Sansa asked after a moment of silence.

Jon sighed and finally looked at her. She was in just as much disarray as he was at this revelation. This meeting tonight was going to be a mess but wasn't it only right that Jon prioritized Arya's wellbeing over his kingdom? "She was raped by Daario Naharis. The captain of the Storm Crows, a sellsword who was under my Daenerys's employ."

Seeing the dark look on her face, Jon was quick to assuage her fears. "She was, of course, completely unknowing of his true nature. When Daenerys found Arya's broken form, she took her in, unknowing of who she was. She saved her life. When Daario Naharis was revealed to be the culprit, she allowed Arya to execute him herself. Fucking _Ser_ Daario is finally dead but he should have died a long time ago if I had only acted accordingly and killed him as I should have the first time I saw him in Meereen."

"You couldn't have known what he would do to Arya, Jon." Sansa tried to reassure him. "You couldn't have stopped this."

"I might not have been able to know but Rhaegal did. He knew that Daario was not to be trusted. He tried to attack him and I held him back from killing the bastard. If I hadn't been there he would have died and Arya would have been fine. Or if I had just not been selfish and left Rhaegal in Meereen I would have been there to protect her. While I was patrolling the streets of the city, crime came to almost a complete standstill. Daario would have never touched her if I was there. If he had, I would have eaten him. I could have easily stopped this. It is my fault that she suffered so."

"You didn't know who this Ser Daario Naharis was, or what he would do. Maybe you were suspicious of his true nature but you're suspicious of everyone Jon, it would be more worrisome if you trusted a sellsword than you and Rhaegal who you've told me is one with your mind, didn't trust him. You leaving Meereen was not selfish, it was selfless. Your dragon saved the lives of all of your Wildlings- the Free Folk, it saved the lives of the Slates, and the Mormonts as well. You calling the dragon to you saved my life, and it saved Rickon's. You calling your dragon led to the end of arranged marriages, and women having a place in the world equal to that of a man. Those decisions bring you no personal gain as a man, but you still made it for the good of the world, and for my good. You are the antithesis of selfish Jon and not at all to blame for what happened to Arya." Sansa declared adamantly.

"It is my fault!" Jon roared in frustration. "Even Arya blames me for this! I could have saved her and I chose not to."

Sansa sighed and placed a gloved hand on his thigh. "Arya doesn't really blame you Jon."

Jon pulled away from her. "She literally told me and I quote; I thought that there was no way that my favorite brother wouldn't protect me when I needed him most. That he would have left just before I needed him." He snarled. "She agrees that I should have been there for her. That I am at fault for her suffering."

Sansa sighed once more- softer this time and reached out for Jon's right hand. "She's hurting and is looking for someone to blame. When I first realized how much of a monster my _beloved_ Joffrey was, I blamed father for my being with him. When I was forced to marry Lord Tyrion, I blamed Robb and our father for being forced into it. Their decisions to rebel against the Lannisters was what lead to it, Robb was being selfish by choosing his crown over my safety. When I was sold to Ramsay by Baelish, and raped by him; I blamed Robb for dying and leaving me at his mercy. I know in retrospect that they are not to blame but in the moment I hated him and father both until I had time to move on. When something like that happens, it is completely natural to want to blame the people closest to you for it. It's easier to blame someone else then it is to process the horror. Arya is only blaming you because it is easy, not because she actually feels you are at fault for it. Deep down she knows that you are no more responsible than she is. "

Jon swallowed. Could she be right? Was it possible that Arya didn't hate him or actually blame him even though she should? Sansa had suffered in the same way, surely she would know what Arya was thinking here. Could he dare to hope that he could have his relationship with his favorite sister back? She wasn't wrong was she? They were nowhere near the same thing but when he had first learned what the wall was, Jon had blamed his uncle for sending him there, and Robb for not fighting his mother to let him stay in Winterfell. In hindsight, he was being irrational but in the moment pushing the blame for anything horrible onto someone was easy. Perhaps it was what Arya was doing here and even what Jon was doing by trying to claim all the blame for himself. Arya did not hate him and he was not entirely responsible for what happened to her. Daario Naharis was primarily the one to blame and while Jon still felt somewhat guilty, it wasn't his fault that Daario had attacked her.

He smiled genuinely for the first time since he had learned of Arya's fate. "Thank you, Sansa. I needed to hear that." He said honestly. "Thank you for sharing your own experiences with me."

Sansa gave him a weak smile in return. "Of course, Jon. You are my brother, I won't let anyone tear you apart, even yourself." She hesitated. "Is Arya alright- not just safe but happy with the Queen? Is she being treated as well as the sister of the King should be? Or is she a prisoner?"

The _like I was_ went unsaid but Jon heard it all the same. He knew her own experiences with royalty had been rough, something that Jon had hardly helped by sending her to Baelish so it was only natural that she would fear Arya was being used the same way. He shook his head vehemently. "My Daenerys would never do that," He declared adamant in that belief. "From what I saw, they were getting along swimmingly. She was as close as I've ever seen her to anyone with my Daenerys." _Perhaps closer than she ever was to me even. Their relationship wasn't built on a lie and promises that Jon had failed to keep._ "She wasn't happy but considering the circumstances, she looked much better than you would expect."

Sansa sighed in relief. "That's good." There was another lapse of silence before she spoke again. "Do you know when the Queen plans to depart for Westeros? When we'll be reunited with Arya?"

Jon frowned and shook his head. "If Jorah gave my Daenerys the note I told him to give her then she should see the urgency of the situation. I'd have to imagine that he hasn't returned to Meereen yet so she is comfortable waiting. She cares about the people of Meereen and doesn't want to leave there until she can be certain that they won't backslide with her gone. Unfortunately, the Long Night makes it impossible to wait for that time. She'll see the urgency of the matter and depart within a few weeks of receiving my message, I'd have to imagine. Essos will still be there for us after the Long Night is won."

"Do you two plan on branching out to Essos once you have the Iron Throne and the Long Night has passed? Or will you settle and just rule over Westeros?" Sansa asked curiously. They had never actually discussed what he wanted to do if they survived the Long Night. How he would rule his Kingdom in the wake of the apocalypse.

"My Daenerys and I plan on ending slavery in all of the World, not just Westeros. There are men and women suffering in chains in both Essos and Sothoryos that I can not in good conscience allow to remain that way. Right now, Westeros has to be the priority but we won't discriminate based on where someone is born. They all deserve freedom equally."

Sansa frowned at his passionate response. "That's unrealistic Jon. If the Long Night is even half as terrible as you make it out to be, no one will want to fight more afterward. If half our army is desecrated by the army of the dead then how do you plan to stand against all of Essos? Even if we win without major casualties, how do you plan on convincing the Lords to fight for a bunch of foreigners? Be satisfied with just making Westeros a better place, the rest of the world will have to find it's own savior."

Jon nearly snarled at her dismissal of the Essosi people simply due to where they had been born. Essos needed the wheel broken just as much, if not more than Westeros did. He knew it was impractical but there were ways of gaining compliance, both through diplomacy and force that would see the wheel broken in all parts of the world. "We will not abandon anyone to suffer needlessly when we have the power to stop it. All men and women are equally worthy of being freed from the wheel- regardless of where they were born or what their status is. There are ways to convince the Lords to send their men to fight for us. Even if they refuse to do so; we will still not abandon the rest of the world. My Daenerys took Astapor with less than a hundred men and baby dragons, she took Meereen while outnumbered by rallying the people. We will do the same again if we have to for the rest of the world."

"Like what?" Sansa half asked and half demanded. "How do you plan on gaining the support of the Lords in your endeavor to aid foreigners and savages- their words, not mine." She amended at Jon's glare. "Do you plan on preaching to them about building a better world? That only worked with the North because you are a northerner and they saw a chance to gain power. Do you plan on threatening to burn down their homes as the Mad King did? Force compliance exclusively through fear as they all plot your demise behind your back?"

Jon snorted. "Do you think so little of me sister? We haven't discussed things in detail yet but we both tentatively plan- or on her part is at least willing to give each of our Kingdoms and the cities we take partial independence. They will be forced to abide by our laws but they would be allowed to govern themselves. We give them what they want, and more power for themselves and they'll fight for us. Only Dorne would be slighted by this. We both know it is not practically possible for us to rule over a thousand cities and Kingdoms with their own cultures at once. We plan on giving the people partial power to make things easier on ourselves and to gain their unending loyalty. The North fought a war for independence and we'll give it to them for free. If they still refuse to fight for us, even after all of our diplomatic efforts then we will use force but only as a last resort. If it takes ugly methods to build the new world, that will not deter us from our goal. All men will be freed from the wheel before we die, no matter the cost."

"Listen to yourself Jon, you're talking about conquering the entire world. You want to force men to kneel through fear and death if this is what it takes to achieve your goals. Is your new world order worth it if it comes at the cost of the lives of so many? Is it worth it if you hurt just as many people as you help? Father would hate this, he would never abide by such detestable actions regardless of the outcome in the end. You sound mad and power-crazed Jon, the world is too big for any one man to rule." Sansa protested.

Jon tried to shoot to his feet and yell at her but the chains that were bound around his lower half, anchoring him to the bench made that impossible. He settled for just yelling. "Yes, Sansa it is worth it! If I had stayed dead and my Daenerys had chosen to stay in Essos, leaving you at the hands of Ramsay while she ended abhorrent marriages like yours everywhere else, would you not want to be saved? Would you not consider any price worth it? You thought that all of the Free Folk were disposable when it came to having your own freedom and revenge. You were willing to throw my entire army to the slaughter in the effort to have that. You are being hypocritical and racist by expecting me to abandon the rest of the world! Their lives are not any less valuable just because they live in Essos. They are innocent people too who do not deserve to suffer because of their place of birth or social status. We are the only people in the whole world with the power to save all of them from their horrible lives of bondage and pain; to not save them would be selfish and evil. Even if in the short term, more people are being hurt by our breaking the wheel; in the long run, the world will be better off for it when no man is born into slavery or written off as worthless because of their birth status."

Sansa frowned but gave a resigned nod. "We can wait to discuss this until after the Long Night, there's no point in arguing about this right now."

Jon closed his eyes and nodded as well. "We'll be touching down briefly for me to switch to Rhaegal's back. After that, we'll head for the Vale at full speed in order to make up for the time we've wasted." Jon would have had to stop to swap seats at some point either way. He needed to make an entrance when he arrived and he couldn't do that while, not on Rhaegal. He had to be the confident dragon-riding Targaryen King. Perhaps, he could have waited a bit longer before moving positions but he didn't particularly want to let his anger fester by staring at his sister for hours. He needed to have a clear mind for the meeting, and flying on Rhaegal's back was very calming most the time.

* * *

Rhaegal flapped his wings rapidly as he lowered himself down onto the hillside. He had never actually tried landing on anything other than flat ground before, the idea that it would be required hadn't actually occurred to him. Letting the carriage lie flat on the ground on a hill was a difficult task to say the least but with the Eyrie built into the side of a mountain, it was an unavoidable one. They didn't have the time to land at the bottom and make the treacherous hike up the icy mountain to reach the Eyrie, even if they did it would hardly be the statement of power that Jon needed it to be if they arrived to the meeting on foot instead of on the back of a dragon.

Jon hugged his arms around Rhaegal's neck and slipped into the dragon's skin. Gently he lowered himself down towards the ground while making sure to stay upright so the carriage hung flat over the ground until they were only a few feet over the ground. He then curled Rhaegal's hind legs up as far as he could, clutching them to the dragon's chest, causing Sansa in the carriage below to rise as well at the jerk of the chains.

He continued to slowly lower themselves towards the ground until he felt the carriage slam into the higher part of the hill. From there it was as simple as just slowly unfurling their legs to gently drop Sansa to the slope of the hill. Once he was sure she was safely planted on the ground, he flew a bit lower before landing a few feet higher up the mountain, making sure not to fully extend the chains again so Sansa wouldn't be moved from her place on the ground.

He let out a loud roar as he hit the ground before slipping back into his own skin. He pushed himself upright as all of the onlookers stared in both awe and fear at Rhaegal and his flaming crown. It only took a moment for him to slip out of the straps holding him to Rhaegal's back, he had done this enough times by now for the transition to be smooth.

He slipped off of his back and stood on the uneven icy ground. If he hadn't been used to worse terrain in the true north then he might have lost his footing but after the skirling pass, this was nothing. He crouched down and undid the harness around Rhaegal's belly and sat it down on the ground beside him. He then walked around to his hind legs and undid the heavy steel manacles around his ankles.

"Go on Rhaegal," Jon said with a small smile. "You've earned the chance to be free, have fun out there." Rhaegal let out a happy chirp before leaping into the skies with a roar and a short burst of flame in the empty sky. The snow was kicked by his hasty exit and blanketed Jon's cloak.

Jon shook himself, picked up the saddle, and turned to the carriage where two armored knights were helping Sansa out of her own straps. They had likely struggled to figure it out at first, but they seemed to be getting it now. He tossed the saddle on the empty bench across from Sansa as she finally got free and stood up. She staggered on her feet at first after so long without moving, and rubbed at her chaffed legs that the straps had rubbed at for the last few hours. He had no doubt that it was just as uncomfortable for her as it was for him, if not more so.

It was only once Sansa had emerged from the carriage that Jon turned towards their welcoming party. He had to pretend that his sister's well being was his primary concern and that he unconditionally trusted her for Lord Baelish to believe the lie she had spun for him. He did trust her- at least to look out for her own self-interests which required him on the throne to be realized. For now, there was no harm in being honest with her because it would hurt her to betray him, that would remain the case until he had the throne so she was a perfectly functioning hand. She even had more of a mind for politics and manipulation than Jon had thought she did.

"Your Grace," A thin man with dark hair that had threads of grey within it greeted sweetly as he bowed. "I am here to greet you on behalf of Lord Robin Arryn who sends his warmest regards and is very pleased that you've given him the honor of hosting you."

The man stood up straight and that was when Jon knew who he was. His plum-colored doublet with a mockingbird embroidered on the right breast in black thread. The sigil that Lord Baelish had taken for his own in place of the Titan they used to use that showed their foreign roots, roots that Baelish wanted people to forget about. A mockingbird was a symbol of honesty and integrity in Westeros, something that Jon knew Baelish was the opposite of according to Sansa. But that was why the bird was mocking them wasn't it?

Jon plastered a smile onto his face. "Lord Baelish, I presume?" Baelish gave a slight nod. "It is a pleasure to finally meet the man who saved my sister's life and kept her safe while I was, unfortunately, unable to do so. House Stark owes you a debt for your aid in their Lady's hour of need. "

Lord Baelish's lips curled upwards. "The honor is all mine, Your Grace. I and her mother were always so close growing up, so I view her as a sort of surrogate daughter. Although, I was only married to my beloved Lysa for a short time before she went mad and killed herself. She is family and while I was only married to a Tully for a short time, ( grew up as one and I do pride myself in following their words. Family, Duty, and Honor are of the utmost importance to me."

Jon smiled in return. "Whatever your reasons were, I am grateful for your service all the same." He coughed and changed the subject to why they were really here. "I was told by my Hand that Lord Arryn has called all the Lords of the Vale here to meet with me, and reaffirm their oaths of fealty to House Targaryen. Has that been done?"

"Of course, Your Grace," Baelish replied. "All of the Lords are here for the summit although they have yet to pledge you their fealty. Some of them are merely here out of obligation or loyalty to the Lord Arryn. Your offer of naming him Warden of the East, your Squire, and promising a spot on your council to a man of his choice was too good of a deal for the young Lord to pass up. He has already promised House Arryn and all of it's armies to you in your campaign to reclaim your throne."

"I'm pleased to hear it," Jon replied with a genuinely warm smile.

"If you'll follow Lady Stone, Your Grace, then she will direct you to your chambers for you and your sister to freshen up before seeing the Lord Arryn." Baelish said smoothly, gesturing towards a tall strapping woman dressed in leather pants and a man's coat. Her hair was the color of freshly burned charcoal and was cut short much like how Arya had always wanted hers to be against the wishes of her mother.

"Your Grace," She bowed only slightly to him before uprighting herself. "If you would follow me inside, I can have you both brought to where your chambers will be for the duration of your stay here in the Eyrie."

Jon smiled openly. "That would be much appreciated." He turned away from her striking blue eyes and back towards Baelish. "If you can have some of your men bring the carriage and saddle inside, it would be much appreciated. I would much prefer to take my sister back with me when we return to the North."

Baelish nodded. "Of course, Your Grace, although I can't say I would protest having the company of the Lady Sansa for more than just a handful of days."

Jon bit his lip to stop himself from frowning at the weasel he would be forced to work with for the foreseeable future. Instead he turned back towards the Lady Stone, "Shall we be off?"

She nodded her head and begun to trek across the snow, towards the gates. They had skipped most of the mountain by flying on Rhaegal but there was still some space between them and the Eyrie. He stared after the mysterious Lady Stone for reasons he could not place. Obviously, she was a bastard based on her name but why would Baelish have her of all people serve as their escort?

After they had only made it a few paces, the Lady Stone slowed herself and turned towards Sansa. "I must apologize for not treating you with the proper respect the last time we spoke, Alayne- sorry Lady Sansa," Lady Stone did not sound at all apologetic despite what she claimed. It was a playful statement, not a fearful one.

Sansa smiled warmly at her. "I'm glad you didn't, if you had referred to me by my proper name and titles, it would have ruined the whole point of going by that name."

Lady Stone snorted. "It would have, wouldn't it." She shook her head and regained her bearings, likely remembering who the third member of their party was. "I am glad to see you are alright Alayne, you vanished overnight and then we heard you were sold by the former Lady Lysa to the Bolton Bastard. I was horrified on your behalf, it is good to see you have survived the experience."

Sansa gave her a smile in kind, although Jon could tell it was forced. "I survived, I appreciate the concern though Mya. It is good to see you again as well."

They followed her in a stilted silence once more, every step the Lady Stone- Mya according to Sansa took; she exuded energy. She was constantly restless and boiling with enthusiasm begging to be unleashed. There was something about her that intrigued him, something that felt familiar to a part of Jon. She was a bit like Arya in some ways before... she clearly did not care for the rules of society that mandated how she should behave as a bastard and a woman, but her lack of status forced her to abide by them as it was constantly beat into her like it had been into Jon. That had to be why he felt he knew her, she was both in parts like him and like Arya- at least the old Arya that is.

They stepped through the gates and into the relative warmth of the Eyrie. "Err- Your Grace, forgive me if this is intrusive but does it hurt?" Mya asked curiously, her desire to have answers outweighing her sense of decorum.

Jon flushed at the attention. "Err- does what hurt?"

She gestured wildly at his head. Sansa filled in the gaps for him. "She's asking if the fire hurts Jon, Mya does have quite a way with words."

Jon stopped. "Oh uh no. It's incredibly pleasant actually, tickles my head and is err hot." He said lamely. He wasn't sure why he was so flustered here, it was just a random bastard- probably of some importance but ultimately not someone he needed to be an idiot with. Why was he so unable to think rationally around her? That was an extremely eloquent response, the kind that the foolish Jon Snow had given when he was just a bastard in the presence of someone above his station.

He cleared his throat. "It does not hurt, in fact, it actually feels incredible. The flames chase off the cold of the incoming winter and are like the smoothest of caresses on my skin. It's a calming sensation yet also an empowering one. It also happens to look extremely cool." He wasn't sure why he had added the last part but it appeared to be the correct decision as Mya giggled at the last remark.

"I will confess that I am envious of your powers. It would be a wonderful thing to wear flames when hiking up the mountain each day."

Sansa took over the conversation, saving Jon from having to respond as they rounded a corner. "It would be nice, wouldn't it." She sighed. "Sadly that is a gift exclusive to the Targaryens. The rest of us will have to make do with bundles of clothing and sitting by the fireplace instead of in it." She gave Jon a teasing smirk at that last jab.

Jon flushed. "That was only once," he hissed out in embarrassment. "And in my defence, it was freezing cold out and I had just gotten back from spending hours miles and miles above the ground. If you had knocked before entering my room then you would have never seen anything."

Mya giggled before remembering where her place was supposed to be and falling silent as Sansa smirked in triumph at having finally got the enthusiastic girl to fall silent. It was after they rounded another corner that Sansa sparked another conversation.

"How is your Mychel Redfort doing? Should I be expecting an invitation to your wedding soon?" Sansa asked with a teasing- and an obviously false smile.

Mya frowned and her enthusiasm seemed to die within her. Jon felt the urge to lash out at Sansa for hurting this Mya Stone for some inexplicable reason? Why was he so protective of this girl he had never meant? It had to just be his guilt for not being able to protect Arya that was motivating him. He squashed down the desire to lash out at Sansa and remained silent as they walked on.

Mya was silent as well for a moment as she sulked before speaking quietly. "His father has arranged for him to be married to Lady Ysilla Royce against the both of our protests to the contrary."

By the smirk on Sansa's face as she revealed that information to the both of them, Sansa had already known about that fact. His rage simmered at her but he knew he had to remain in control and take the bait that had been offered to him by her. He did want to cheer up Mya regardless of Sansa's manipulations. "That won't happen," Jon swore honestly.

"Your Grace?" She asked in some confusion to his statement.

Jon did not hesitate to elaborate. "I've ended the abhorrent practice of slavery in all forms throughout Westeros. No longer will women be sold to husbands they don't love, every man and woman will have a choice in who they marry. No one can tell them otherwise if two people decide to be wed then they will be wed. Their father, liege Lord, or even King can not interfere with their decision. It is theirs and theirs alone."

She turned to him with wide eyes brimming with tears and stopped walking. "Th-thank you, Your Grace," She practically wept. "I-I can never repay you for this. I-I.."

Jon smiled genuinely and gently placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I assure you that there is nothing to repay. I only did what any decent man would do; no one should have to suffer like Sansa or my da-trothed did in a forced marriage to a man they do not love. She was a slave to her husband and I will not let anyone experience the same thing if I can stop it; and as the King I am the only one with the power to do so. I didn't do it just for you but for everyone who has been forced into such an awful situation in the past. I did it for my children, and your children, and everyone who comes after us so they can experience a better life free from the wheel of oppression."

She wiped away her tears fiercely and turned away from him and out of his grip. "We're here, Your Grace," She said, doing her best to reign in her wild emotions. "Yours is the room on the left, Alayne is in the smaller one on the right. If you need anything just give a holler and a steward will come tend to you. Dinner should be in around an hour. Either I or another steward will come to fetch you when it is time for supper. After supper I believe is when Lord Robin plans on hosting the summit on your behalf."

Jon resisted the urge to reach out and touch her again. Why was he being so clingy to a complete stranger? He wasn't even like this with Rickon anymore, only with his Daenerys did he behave in such a manner. It had to be what had happened with Arya that was making him so overprotective of this stranger who only vaguely reminded him of her. He was not usually like this and he couldn't continue to be like this, he needed to gain a hold of himself. He had to be in control or else he would lose his Kingdoms.

Still, in spite of all of that, he couldn't help but smile at her. "Thank you so much for your help Lady Mya. I look forward to seeing you again at that time."

She beamed. "No thank you, Your Grace." She bowed once more and then turned away from him and receded from him. She walked at a brisk pace as she made her escape but with even more enthusiasm than when they had first met. There was an extra spring in her step and she seemed to exude happiness.

The dragon in his chest roared with pleasure at how he had caused her such joy. He tried to tear his eyes away from her but found himself unable to until she was completely out of his line of sight. It was like a moth being drawn to a flame, he was helpless to resist her allure. He wasn't attracted to her in the slightest, she was moderately pretty but her beauty did not compare at all to that of his Daenerys. Yet she was so attention-grabbing. Did he care so little for Arya that he would just try to replace her now that she had gotten damaged? Was that what he was doing? Replacing the sister who had just suffered beyond belief and was no longer the same person that he remembered, with a complete stranger who happened to be similar in a handful of ways to who she had once been? Was he that much of a monster?

Sansa cleared her throat and tore Jon's attention towards her. She gestured with her head towards his room and Jon nodded before pushing the door open and stepping inside. He was quickly joined by Sansa in his room who immediately rushed to close the door behind her.

"Please do not tell me you have a crush on Mya!" She demanded incessantly.

Jon did not flush at Sansa's accusation. He could deal with her just as he did with everyone else- well everyone except Mya Stone for some inexplicable reason. "Of course not, I was simply being kind- as any decent human being would be." He couldn't help but add the not so subtle jab at Sansa's behavior towards her so called friend. She had been outright cruel to her.

Sansa as per usual ignored his explanation, too convinced that she was right about this. "You can not enter into a relationship with her of all people. Apart from needing to honor your marriage agreement and stay faithful to Daenerys Targaryen; in hopes of avoiding another dance of the dragons- she is a bastard- and a Baratheon one at that. Even if she could forgive you for not remaining celibate before your marriage, sleeping with a Baratheon bastard would be a slap in her face. Being born a bastard is already a stain on you but marrying one would be a slap in the face to all the people you plan to rule over. More so, you would be giving Petyr what he wants..." He tuned out the rest of her rant to lost in the revelation she had just given to him.

Jon froze. That certainly complicated things but also explained some things. She was a Baratheon that was why Baelish had chosen her as their escort. He wanted to see how he would behave around the daughter of the man who had killed his birth father. He needed to have an accurate assessment of Jon's mental state and character in order to manipulate him. Sansa had warned him that he would cause measured chaos to advance his goals, this wouldn't destroy his campaign but he would cause bumps in the road and now they were forced to play nice with a Baratheon.

More importantly than her being a Baratheon, she was a Targaryen by blood. She had recently inherited the blood of the dragon and that was why Jon had felt so protective over her, he had been drawn to her Valyrian blood. He knew Rhaegal had a much more friendly disposition towards those of Valyrian blood. The blood sang to him and made him much more trusting and willing to engage with. He knew that Rhaegal was naturally hostile towards those without any traces of Valyrian blood. Whereas Rhaegal could just sense if they had it or not just by interacting with someone, Jon could not. He never had been able to even as Rhaegal, that was only the word of Rhaegal and his awareness of his dragon's mind that had shown him what he was sensing.

Jon had no such ability and that was a major problem. He had been clueless as to why he had been so drawn to Mya until Sansa had told him who she was. She could have manipulated him into doing something and Jon wasn't sure he would have known to resist her. His instincts had saved his life and guided him for so long. His ability to accurately judge people and assess their intentions was a valuable skill that he placed very high stock in. He could no longer count on his own judgement. Was his trust in Lyanna Mormont based on her secretly having some Valyrian blood? Was he imagining her loyalty and character to fit what her blood told him? Was Davos also of Valyrian descent and was that why he had trusted the hand of Stannis so easily? He had thought it was because he had judged him a good man but his judgment was clearly suspect by this point. He had also thought Stannis was a good honorable man and he had been wrong there. He had likely only thought that because of his Valyrian heritage. Was Tormund even secretly Valyrian?

Jon pinched his brow and ran his hands through the flames that danced around on his scalp. He was being ridiculous. He hadn't even known that Rhaegal existed when he had decided to trust Tormund and Davos; and even Stannis. His Targaryen blood couldn't be to blame for his weakness to it or else it would have affected his Daenerys just as much as him if not more since she had always had the Targaryen gifts- Jon had only gained them after becoming Rhaegal. He couldn't go down this route or else he would never trust anyone ever again and his interactions with Sansa had shown him he had to trust at least a little. He had to work with people to stop the Long Night and he couldn't do that if he ignored his instincts every time he spoke with someone. He had to trust himself at the very least. He knew about this weakness now and could take countermeasures against it. Some of the Lords of the Vale might have Valyrian blood but family trees were easy to find and something he had spent some time studying in preparation for this meeting. If he knew they had Valyrian blood then he would know not to trust his instincts with them. It was only the bastards like Mya whose parentage he didn't know that he had to question his judgment with.

Sansa smacked his arm drawing him out of his reverie. "Are you even listening to me, Jon? Stop daydreaming about Mya and remember that you are supposed to be a King!"

Jon grimaced and sighed. He obviously couldn't tell Sansa why he had really been so drawn to Mya. He wouldn't give her a method she could easily use to control him. No one could know about his weakness to Valyrians aside from his Daenerys, he needed her to be able to verify things for him when his judgment was questionable in a matter. He wouldn't be able to have any say in the handling of Valyrian's being tried due to his natural trust towards them that override his natural instincts and intuition. He knew that she wouldn't use it against him, she had no reason to seeing as anything she could do with that information even if she had nefarious intentions which Jon knew she did not; she could already do with herself and not some stand-in. He would be vulnerable to her regardless of if she was aware of his weakness. He knew she was trustworthy and that wasn't just her blood speaking.

"I wasn't daydreaming about Lady Mya as you put it," Jon said with another sigh. He forced a weak smile to his face before quickly shifting his expression back into a frown. "I was thinking about Arya."

"The reason why I was so willing to open up and be friendly with her, why I wanted to protect her so badly is because her youthful exuberance and energy reminded me of Arya- or at least how she was before... I felt guilty for how the life had been crushed out of Arya- I know it wasn't entirely my fault, but I didn't want her to lose her energy as Arya did." He was simply stating what his initial internal rationale had been but as painful and unwise as it was to even think about Arya right now, he knew she would accept the explanation.

"I was also reminded a bit of myself I suppose. She was trampled and considered worthless just like I was by society. I saw a kindred spirit to my sufferings and latched on to her. I'm aware of how foolish it was, and it won't happen again." He squashed down the guilt that he felt for using what had happened to Arya to his advantage. He had no other choice. Not using the situation to break the wheel would not help anyone or undo what had happened to her.

Sansa's next actions surprised Jon more than possible any of her previous decisions. She didn't protest his logic at all or argue against him in any form. She didn't even use words to respond. Instead, she stepped towards him and hugged him.

Her words were like ice on his skin. "What happened to Arya is awful, and is not something I want to just forget about but we have no choice. You have to remain focused today, if you need to grieve and rage or latch onto any kindred spirits once we are back in the North then do so. I will likely do the same. It wasn't your fault what happened to her but it is still painful to even imagine. Right now, as awful as it was, we have to compartmentalize and stay focused on why we are here. Any distraction, no matter what it is, can not be tolerated in any form."

She pulled away from him and brushed off the ashes that had fallen from his crown onto her hair. "I'll leave you alone Jon. I'm sorry for being inconsiderate but I have to be. Whatever you need to do to clear your mind, find peace with what happened- even just temporarily, just make sure that you do it before dinner." She grinned mischievously and added on one more thing with a teasing grin. "Even if that means sitting in the fireplace for an hour."

She left and Jon sighed. He was mostly handling what had happened to Arya after that first conversation with Sansa but the new revelation he did need time alone to process. He glanced at the fireplace where a laze was roaring in the hearth, perhaps he would take Sansa up on her suggestion. Ideally, he would go for a flight on Rhaegal but he didn't have the time for that and Rhaegal deserved a chance to rest. The fire would be a proper substitute for the time being, it had been too long since he bathed in flames after all.

* * *

"Lord Arryn, it is a pleasure to finally meet you," Jon said with a slight incline of his head as he took his seat at the table seated directly to the left of the young lord. "Sansa has told me much about you. Of your tremendous bravery and honor."

Lord Arryn shifted under his praise and tugged on the collar of his gambeson. "It's a pleasure to see you as well King Grace," he replied.

Jon couldn't help but chuckle slightly at that form of address. Someone was clearly nervous or perhaps just a halfwit like Sansa had claimed. Sickly and frail were certainly apt descriptions so why wouldn't the rest of it be the same way?

Lord Baelish smiled from his seat to the right of Lord Arryn but it didn't reach his eyes. "Sweetrobin, I believe the proper address for King Jon is either King Jon or Your Grace; not King Grace."

Jon forced a smile. "No need for us to be so formal, Lord Robin. You are my sister's kin and will soon serve as my own squire. I'd like for us to know each other more than as just King and subject but actually be friends. I insist that you just call me Jon while in private."

Did Jon really want to be referred to by his given name when speaking with Lord Robin? Not particularly but it was the tactically wise choice. He needed to gain the trust and adoration of Lord Arryn so when the time came that Petyr Baelish had outlived his usefulness, he would still retain the loyalty of the Vale. With Robin as his squire, he was in the unique position to steal his loyalty from Baelish.

He had been a bit surprised when Baelish had been the one to insist on Robin as his squire. He was confused as to why he would knowingly place Robin in a place where his loyalties could shift but it made some sense if the boy truly was as dimwitted and naive as Sansa believed. Robin was the perfect unwitting spy. As Jon's squire, he would be by his side at almost all times and overhear many of his private conversations he was also too naive and dimwitted to keep what he learned a secret from his ever so trusted Uncle Petyr. He was knowingly giving Lord Baelish a spy on all of his plans. He hated that but he had to do it. He had to trust that Baelish would protect his own self-interest above all else and that meant not betraying Jon yet. He couldn't refuse Robin as his squire or else he could lose the Vale and he needed that more than a squire he could trust.

Lord Robin shifted in his seat once more and stabbed at a carrot with his fork, missing and causing it to roll off his plate onto the floor. "You can call me Robin then," The little boy decided without looking up from his plate of food that he was stabbing at incessantly.

"So tell me, Robin, how good are you at using a sword?" Jon asked after only a brief moment trying to build up some form of rapport with the stunted ten-year-old boy.

Lord Robin glanced up from his plate. "I'm the best in the entire world, Mother always said so. I use my sword to cut down the bad guys like this, and this, and this." He swished his fork through the air enthusiastically, brandishing it like a sword and made slashing motions with the fork, one with terrible form mind you. It was clear that the boy in spite of his boasting about his skills with a sword had no or at least very little experience holding one.

Sansa leaned over from beside him and whispered in his ear. "He's never actually been allowed to hold a sword in real life. He is quite good with an imaginary one though." Sansa whispered confirming his suspicions.

"That's good. I can't wait to be the one who learns from you then, I'm afraid I am not the best swordsman in the entire world. We can both learn from each other but I will likely be the one who learns more from this arrangement seeing as how you're the best swordsman in the entire world. Perhaps it should be me as your squire instead." Jon teased. He knew that wasn't at all true but he also knew that Lord Arryn required positive reinforcement and adored being praised. He also seemed to be too stupid to recognize sarcasm or lies. Jon wasn't sure if that last part was good or not for Jon's goals. He was easier for Jon to manipulate but also easier to manipulate against him.

Lord Baelish chuckled at that remark. '"Let's not get too hasty, Your Grace, I'm afraid that Sweetobin is still too young to have a squire of his own. Perhaps when he is of age you could squire under him, but for now, we will have to stick with the current arrangement." Lord Baelish joked with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Jon forced another smile. "That appears to be the case, unfortunately. So tell me Robin, have you ever ridden on a horse? Can you joust?" He needed to know the answer if he wanted to properly teach Lord Robin Arryn as his squire and he did want to do that. He needed to keep Lord Arryn happy to keep the Vale which meant he couldn't be too hard on the kid and had to constantly suck up to his fragile self-esteem. Surely the kid would have some skills in a field and they could hone his training on that one part. A man didn't have to be able to be a master of one thing.

Lord Robin scoffed. "Of course I have. My mother would always take me riding with her when she had to leave the Eyrie. I'm the best rider in all of the Seven Kingdoms. I won a tourney already and I'll win a hundred- no a thousand more."

''Oh?" Jon asked in some disbelief and with a slight note of mocking that thankfully Lord Arryn did not pick up on. "What tourney did you win?" Surely it had to be some tourney for just other children, playing at real combat and not a real tourney. The boy was only twelve after all. Still, it was encouraging that he had ridden a horse before and was apparently good at it. Jon wasn't great with a Lance himself but he at least had a foundation to teach Robin from there. Or perhaps he would teach him to use a bow like he had taught Arya. That was a good long-distance weapon that he could use from horseback and would keep the frail and very important child out of any conflicts as while as relatively safe and hopefully alive.

Lord Robin puffed up his chest with pride. "I won the tourney of The Dragon Falcon. I unseated Ser Jamie, Ser Barristan, King Daeron, and even Aegon the Conquerer in the final tilt!"

Jon couldn't quite stop himself from groaning audibly. The boy had not won any tourneys and had likely never ridden a horse before. He was delusional and clearly incapable of telling reality from his fantasies. Jon squashed down the small bit of triumph he felt deep down at the fact that Targaryens clearly weren't the only ones who could go mad. This boy was madder than most Targaryens had ever been. Was the Vale really worth taking on a headcase as his squire? He knew it was but it didn't feel that way right now.

Jon shook himself. He wouldn't think that way, not again. He was not going to fall back into the wheel and push people down for things beyond their control. Lord Arryn didn't choose to be born this way and Jon wouldn't discriminate against him for it as everyone else did. He was not willing to be a part of the wheel anymore, he and his Daenerys wanted to break the wheel and by scorning Lord Arryn as frustrating as this was, he would just be giving into the wheel. He would not fall into that trap once more. The world would change and all men and women would be equal in all things.

"I think we'll start with archery then, it's a good weapon to start with. A bow is simple and requires very little strength- not that you are at all lacking there, of course, but it will be an easy weapon to start with. You can shoot arrows from horseback and stay out of the fray during the battle until you grow older."

Lord Baelish nodded in agreement. "It's a sensible decision, Your Grace, I am glad that you are prioritizing Lord Robin's safety over all else. As his guardian, it is good to know that his safety will always be your top priority."

"I don't want to stay safe or stay out of the battle!" Lord Robin whined turning quite a few heads towards them. "I want to be in the midst of it, and kill all the bad guys with my sword. I want to be the hero and have songs written about me and my bravery. I want all of the glory and my name to be remembered in the annuls of history!"

This was all Baelish's fault, a few choice words and he had Lord Robin whining about his new position. Was he wrong to trust that Baelish would want him on the throne so he could have it? Was he wrong to trust Sansa and he knew about how Jon wanted them to believe Sansa was his heir so he could have his support? Had he chosen to side with the Lannisters instead?

Except that wasn't what this was. If Baelish had chosen the Lannisters he would have simply killed them when they arrived and sent their heads to King's Landing. He wouldn't have caused Lord Arryn to scream at him in the dining hall. His goal was clearly to get the Vale to doubt him while also agreeing to fight for him so once he and Sansa moved to usurp Jon, the Vale would not mourn him too greatly or care really if there was foul play. He was assuring that their loyalty remained to him first and foremost, with Jon as a second at best. It was clever, and even knowing what Baelish was doing he couldn't do anything to stop it if he wanted the Vale's armies even if not their hearts. He only needed their swords after all.

"You're mistaken Lord Baelish," Jon said sounding much calmer than he felt. "I do not want Lord Robin out of the battle to keep him safe. I do want that but that's not why he should be kept at the back. Lord Robin is the Lord of the Vale, and my Warden of the East. He is not a simple soldier but he will be a natural leader and commander. The commander does not enter into the fray with their soldiers. They are the most important piece and must be protected because without them the entire army falls. He will stay in the back because that is where the most powerful leaders should always be. He is too important to lose and it is the commanders who get all the glory in songs and legends. They get credit for every "bad guy" that is killed by their army."

Lord Robin beamed and Jon exhaled slightly in relief. That crisis was averted it seemed. He hadn't even had to completely bullshit that explanation. Robin was ultimately too important for Jon to risk his death in battle. Baelish would lose the authority to give them the Vale if Lord Robin died. He would lose a third of his army for letting a small boy play around in war. He would likely only ever be a leader in name only but he was the most important piece in the Vale army and almost completely irreplaceable.

"I still don't want to use a stupid bow!" Robin said petulantly although he appeared to have mellowed out some at the very least.

"Oh?" He said with a raised eyebrow. "Then what would you like to start with?" Jon had no plan to actually do what Robin requested but he would hear him out so he could try to reason with the child and convince him that the bow was better.

"I want to wield fire!" Robin exclaimed gleefully. "I want to burn the bad guys like you do! I want to ride a dragon and rain fire down on my enemies from above. I don't want to use some stupid bow or sword but to use fire as my weapon to kill all of the bad men. I want to learn how to not be hurt by the fire as you are."

Jon stared at the clearly delusional and stupid child blankly. How could he be so delusional that he would think Jon could teach him how to not be hurt by fire? He was no Targaryen. That was his and his Daenerys's gift, not a teachable skill for whoever wanted to learn. Even if Jon could teach him to be immune to fire, and ride a dragon he would refuse to do so. He was some random child emotionally and physically stunted. He was no Targaryen and was unworthy of being a dragon. If he could teach anyone, which he couldn't, but if he could it would be Arya not Lord Robin. Heck, he might even teach Sansa before this entitled brat.

Thankfully, Sansa saved Jon from having to formulate a response to Robin's demand. "I'm afraid that's not possible, my Sweetrobin." She said softly, reaching across Jon's lap to place her hand on Robin's. "The ability to wear fire, and ride a dragon is something hereditary. Only Targaryens can do them, it's not something he can teach you to do at all. Just like how only Arryn's can have a moon door, only Targaryens get fire."

Robin still looked a little put out by that information but he was at least seemingly accepting of the impossibility of his request. He nodded slightly and glowered at his plate. The room relaxed and they fell into an awkward silence at the High Table as the rest of the room resumed their discussions. Robin didn't attempt to eat anything more but he didn't complain or cause any fuss, which was as good as they could hope for at this point.

After a moment, Baelish decided to cheer the young Lord up. "Even though you can't have a dragon of your own, I'm sure that King Jon will take you for a ride on his dragon's back sometimes."

Jon scowled as Lord Robin turned towards him with bright eyes, his enthusiasm restored. "Can I?" He pleaded.

"Absolutely not. Rhaegal won't let anyone but I or his mother ride on his back. He is not a slave to ferry around whoever I ask him to. He only gives rides to people other than me when strictly necessary." Jon was adamant about that. He had promised Rhaegal that he wouldn't force him to transport any passengers except when strictly necessary and he was a man of his word. Rhaegal was no slave but a dragon, not a horse for men to ride whenever and wherever they pleased. Perhaps if it was one ride that secured the loyalty of the Vale the same way Visenya got their fealty then he would but that was hardly the case. Lord Robin was clearly a spoiled child who wouldn't be satisfied with just one dragon ride and as his squire, he would both expect and demand to get to ride more often. There was no need for him to ride when he already had the Vale for the time being and he wouldn't needlessly hurt Rhaegal. He was not a monster.

"I am the Lord of the Eyrie!" He screeched loud enough that every eye in the room turned towards them. "I decide what I can do, not anyone else! When I want something I get it! I want to ride a dragon so I will ride a dragon!"

To Jon's dismay, Lord Robin began to seize uncontrollably. The boy flailed about recklessly and knocked over the pitcher on wine resting in front of them onto Jon's plate, soiling his steak. Lord Robin's fist slammed into the mashed potatoes on his own plate and that went splat as well. A foot lashed out and connected with Jon's shin, causing a sharp jolt of pain to run up Jon's side.

Lord Baelish was quick to his feet. "Guards, take Lord Robin back to bed and leech him." He ordered. "Maester Coleman, give the young Lord a mix of dreamwine and milk of the poppy to help him rest."

As the men went to carry out the tasks Baelish had assigned them and the guards hefted a still flailing Lord Robin into their arms, Baelish turned towards Jon. He gave a deep bow and did not rise out of it even as he addressed Jon. "My humblest of apologies, Your Grace, for that debacle." He said emotionally. "I ask that you do not punish Sweetrobin for the incident. If anyone must be punished for the incident then it should be me as his guardian." He sighed wearily. "I'm afraid that after his mother's death he has been inconsolable and his fits have increased in frequency. The incident has been hard on us all but especially on her Sweetrobin."

Jon wanted to punish the stupid Lord Robin for the incident or at least remove him as his squire but the same things that held true when he had initially agreed to the arrangement still held true today. He needed the support of the Vale and any disrespect towards their beloved Lord, even as weak and pathetic as he was; would hurt his cause. He had no choice but to pardon him this once. He was just a child and it wasn't like Olly who had killed him but just thrown a fit and made a mess of dinner. He had to be wise and that meant showing mercy here.

Jon pursed his lips. "I am not in the business of punishing children for the sins of their fathers, nor am I in favor of doing the inverse. I will not hold this incident against either you or Lord Robin as long as it does not happen again. Any repeats of this incident will see Lord Robin removed as my squire, and removed from your guardianship in favor of a more capable Lord Protector who can properly raise the Lord of the Vale."

Baelish nodded and uprighted himself. "Thank you for your mercy, Your Grace."

* * *

Dinner had been a tense affair and now that they had re-allocated to the High Hall it was finally time to meet with the Lords Declarant and gain their fealty and sworn service. Jon was seated at the highest chair, over a dozen feet above the rest, towering over them as their King even if they hadn't yet accepted it. The chair was adorned with the crest of Falcons and House Arryn and was a beautiful cream-colored metal. It had once been the throne of the Arryn's when they were Kings and now Jon was sitting in their place as the new King of the Vale and the rest of the seven kingdoms as well.

Sansa was standing to his right a few steps down, and Baelish to her left a bit a further down as Lord Protector of the Vale. In a perfect world, Jon would have Lord Robin here as well and seated upon the highest dais but after the dinner accident that quite frankly was no longer possible. They had to have this meeting without the public support of Lord Robin.

Once all the Lords had seated themselves below him, Baelish stepped forward to address them. "On behalf of Lord Robin, and his Grace, King Jon, I thank you all for gathering here today and welcome you to the Eyrie. As he is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, he has a claim to the Iron Throne and he has asked us to gather here today to renew our oaths of fealty to Houses Stark and Targaryen. To reaffirm our loyalty to the crown. The King has asked us to gather here today to hear him out, and request our aid in his quest to reclaim the throne from the Lannisters. He has sworn that regardless of what is chosen by all the Lords here, they will be allowed to leave the Eyrie unmolested and return to their homes, in accordance with the ancient traditions of guest right. So please speak honestly, and freely, there will be no reprisals for what is said here today."

"I ask that we all rise and welcome King Jon of Houses Stark and Targaryen. Rightful King of the Andals, the Rhyonar, and the First Men; Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. The unburnt, the resurrected one, and the Father of Dragons."

Maybe half the room rose, it was already a much frothier reception then he had received in the North, and he had yet to introduce the more controversial plans of theirs yet. Perhaps they already knew of them and that was why they were so hostile.

Baelish stepped back and Jon knew it was his turn to get their surrender and support. "I am King Jon of Houses Stark and Targaryen, and as the last living son of the Crown Prince, Rhaegar Targaryen, I am the rightful heir to the Iron Throne by the laws of Westeros. I have asked Lord Robin to gather you all here today to back my claim to the Iron Throne, and ask that you will fight on my behalf in all of the wars to come."

"I realize that the Vale chose to stay mostly uninvolved in the war of the five Kings and I respect that choice, but it is not one that you can make again. The Vale was able to stay uninvolved last time because of how many sides there were in that war. This time there is only two sides. The return of the Targaryen dynasty, or supporting a Lannister bastard's claim to the Iron Throne."

"I realize that Lord Jon Arryn fought to remove the Targaryen dynasty, and place Robert of the House Baratheon upon the Iron Throne. The Vale bled to remove the Mad King from his seat of power. The Targaryens were your enemy only a few short years ago, and now I am asking you to be our greatest ally. That is not what the Arryns' stand for. That is not what is honorable when you swore fealty to the House Baratheon. To break that oath while Robert's son sits the Iron Throne would be a betrayal worthy of the Freys."

"The truth is plain as day that this is not the case, House Baratheon is dead. King Robert died with no children of his own, his brother Stannis became the rightful heir after that. Stannis Baratheon slayed his brother Renly dishonourably and became the sole living male Baratheon. Stannis Baratheon marched on the Boltons at Wintefell, and murdered his only daughter as a sacrifice to his God to give him victory. He lost and House Baratheon died out.

"House Targaryen has historically been an ally of House Arryn, and the rest of the Vale, and it was only under the Mad King's reign that the Arryns fought against us. The bastard Joffrey Waters was born of incest between the Queen Cersei Lannister and the Kingslayer. He had no claim to the Iron Throne, as a Lannister. Myrcella and Tommen Waters fall under the same purview. There are no more trueborn Baratheons left in the world. It was Tommen's mother who murdered Jon Arryn all those years ago. The Lannisters have wronged House Arryn and you are betraying them by siding with Tommen Waters."

"Who are you to call King Tommen a bastard? Ser Symond Templeton snarled. "You are one yourself, in case you've forgotten. You have even less of a claim to the throne of King Tommen's father. The High Septon himself has declared Tommen as legitimate and the rightful King of Westeros. You are just a bastard who is trying to reach beyond his station and dealing with matters beyond his understanding."

He heard murmurs in agreement and Jon had to take a moment to force himself to remain calm even as they insulted him to his face. "The entire world knows of the affair between Cersei and Jamie Lannister that resulted in the former's execution. I was legitimized by King Robb Stark, and am now considered a trueborn son by the ancient laws of inheritance. Even if that was not the case, I would still sit on the throne as King since my betrothed, Daenerys Targaryen is a trueborn Targaryen and the heir if we discount Robb's legitimization of me."

"Robb Stark was no King of mine! His legitimization holds no weight here." Lord Lipps shouted out. "No woman will ever rule the Vale!" Another man shouted out.

Jon scowled at them. "A woman has just as much right to claim the crown as any man. A woman and man are equals, neither resides above the other."

"The Seven Pointed Star says; As a wife bows to their husbands, men bow to their lords, and lords to their kings, so kings and queens must bow before the Seven Who Are One." Lord Moore quoted. "Who are you to decry the words of the Gods? You are nothing but a Northern heathen."

Jon's scowl deepened. "The Seven Pointed Star was written a thousand years ago, when the world was a very different place. Perhaps, you are taking the words of the Seven too literally. Should we hinder progress because the author of the ancient tome did not foresee the way the world is now? The spirit of the word is more important than the letter of it." Jon would be honest and admit that he had no clue what scripture Lord Moore was quoting which is why he went with such a generic response. He had read the Seven-Pointed Star before, especially after his resurrection and his realization that he needed to be King but never in great deal and he had memorized almost none of it.

"You are no Septon, who are you to interpret the higher mysteries of the Gods? Lord Ruthermont demanded rising to his feet. "The High Septon speaks of all us being equal in the sight of the Gods yes, but his holiness makes it clear that a husband still lords over his wife, and a father over his daughters. You mean to force your ungodly northern ways onto us, and force us to abide by your decrees that go against our faith. House Ruthermont will not betray their Gods and go along with this. We will not bend the knee to Jon Snow." He turned and left the High Hall behind.

Lord Shett leaped to his feet. "I am in agreement with Lord Ruthermont. You are nothing but a bastard, and a blasphemer. I will not fight for a King who my Gods do not respect. The Seven-Pointed Star speaks of bastardy as a great sin, and warns bastards are not to be trusted. That is all you are, despite what you proclaim and dress yourself as. A bastard, Jon Snow. You are no King of mine." He too exited the room without swearing fealty of any kind, maybe a dozen more Lords followed him out. Jon frowned. This was going terrible, and he had already lost a third of his hopeful army here.

"Tell me, Your Grace, do you plan on taking power from the faith? Do you plan on disbanding the faith militant and leaving yourself as the only superpower in Westeros?" Lord Egen asked quietly.

Jon could lie here and perhaps he should but a Kingdom built on a foundation of lies would never hold together through the storm. And make no mistake but the storm was coming and only united could they win. The faith militant very much needed to be checked and it was in a lot of ways the wheel that needed to break. They would likely never be his allies, no matter what he did to make amends with them. He just needed people to see that the faith was wrong in some things. "I do. The faith militant have wreaked havoc on all of Westeros. Their rule over the region has stomped out many lives for sins that shouldn't even be considered sins. The times have changed, but the High Septon insists that the law remains the same. Why should a man and woman suffer different punishments for the same crimes? They shouldn't. I don't plan on disregarding the faith or taking control of their operations but they need to change, they need to modernize if they want to retain any power."

Lord Egen nodded. "I want Tommen Waters removed from the throne as much as anyone, but I will not offer you any aid in trampling my faith. House Egen will remain neutral in this war.

Thankfully, no one followed him out this time, and no one spoke up again so Jon moved onto the address the next item on the docket with the men that remained. "I thank those of you who remain for their willingness to see change done in this world."

"I and the Queen Danerys do not plan to settle with just giving women a place in the line of inheritance or as equals to men in power. We plan on ending slavery in all of its many forms throughout Westeros. That is not limited to owning workers as property but also being allowed to command your wife and children to do things without any ability to choose for themselves. Arranged marriages are no longer legal under our rule, every man and woman will choose for themselves who they marry."

"We have no intention to steal anyone's land or titles from them. We do not plan on usurping the positions of any existing Lords in favor of their elder sister. Only the succession crises that occurs from this day forth. I understand that men do not want to give their lands over to other houses and I sympathize with them in that regard and will not force them to do so. Any noble-women who chooses to marry a noble-born husband must agree to give up any claim to the lands of their house when they do so, or their husband must agree that they and their children will take the woman's name or else they will be removed from the line of succession entirely. In the event that all living scions bearing the name if their house have passed, only then will the children of those who chose to marry out of the family be allowed to inherit the lands; and .even then they still must take on the family name of the family whom the lands they are claiming belong too. House Stark will always hold Winterfell, House Tully will always hold Riverrun, and House Arryn will hold the Vale forevermore as long as they keep good faith with those in power over them."

"I refuse to stand for it," Lord Elesham declared. "As the head of my house, it is my place to decide who all members of my household marry and what lands they inherit. I rule over my house, not the King. That is the way it has always been and I will not stand for some Northern heathen coming in, and changing our way of life."

Jon grinned to himself even as he remained outwardly stoic. It was all too easy to get the Lords to take the bait on this part of his agenda and sign their own death warrant here, just as the Northerners did. "Maester Coleman," He called out. "Can you share with us all how the citadel defines a slave?"

Maester Coleman flinched slightly at unexpectedly being called on but nodded and responded all the same. "The citadel defines a slave as a person who is the lawful property of another person and a person without the choice to refuse their masters, Your Grace."

Jon rounded back to Lord Elesham with his brow furrowed in anger and a dark look fell over his countenance. "Tell me, my Lord, does not what you just described sound exactly like how the citadel defines slavery? Have you just confessed to having slaves of your own? Perhaps you would like to reconsider your position on this matter?"

Lord Elesham trembled under Jon's harsh glare but he was not the one who responded to him. Lord Yohn Royce shot to his feet in a rage. "Do not try to twist our words around and use them to suit your own ends." He bellowed loudly. "I planned on standing with you for who your uncle was and the friendship we had but it is clear you are not a Stark, in spite, of what you claim. Your uncle respected the law and had the honor to follow it as it was written. He understood the intent of it and not just the letter of it. Your uncle understood that Lords were to arrange the best marriages for their sons and daughters; he did the same himself for his own children. Your bastardy is painfully evident in your acts and deeds. Only a bastard would be so conniving and underhanded in their manipulations. You, Jon Snow, are as dishonorable as any man I've ever met and you've brought shame on House Stark. House Royce will offer you no aid in your rebellion."

Lord Yohn Royce stood and left the room with his cousin Lord Nestor Royce Lord of the Gates of the Moon following behind him. Yohn left and Nestor stood in the doorway, and glanced back, clearly hesitant. He looked over at Sansa before ducking his head, and stepping out as well. Jon had managed to lose one of the houses that he had been a hundred percent confident they would gain the loyalty of. Even in the worst-case scenario, they were supposed to stand with him.

It wasn't just the Lord Royces who left there either. The boldness of those Lords leaving inspired others to do the same and another dozen lords including Lord Elesham left him standing there, without bending the knee to him. There were maybe half of the Lords who had been there at the beginning who remained there to hear him out. He had yet to even mention the army of dead men congregating beyond the wall. That was the one goal he had to prioritize not the other ones. Breaking the wheel could have waited until after the Long Night. The Long Night should have come first but he was the son of Eddard Stark, not Rhaegar Targaryen despite what Lord Royce had claimed. He would be honest and upfront about most of his goals, instead of reversing course once he had the throne. He would manipulate people into accepting his rule but he would not be dishonest in his manipulations. Honor might have gotten him killed but he still had a smidgeon of it.

"I thank those of you who remain once again for your willingness to pioneer the new world with me." He couldn't stop some of his frustration over how many of the Lords had abandoned him from bleeding through, try as he might. "I wish that could be the only reason I want to take the throne from the Lannisters but it is not even close to that."

"During my time at the wall, I realized there was a greater threat to the realm and the world at large than any Wildling, Lannister, Frey, or even Targaryen. I learned that beyond the wall there are things stirring that have not been stirred for years. There is a threat so great that no Kingdom can stand alone against and have even a small chance at survival."

"As impossible as it might seem, the Others are real and they are stirring beyond the wall with the intent of crossing it and bringing the eternal night to the rest of the world. The ice monster's with the strength of a hundred men, and an army of dead men, at least two-hundred thousand strong. I realize how absurd this sounds but I assure you that it is the truth."

"The truth?" Lord Redfort scoffed. "You tell us of impossible things and expect us to blindly believe that you speak true? You want the truth? You are truly as mad as your grandfather. You try to tell us that our way of life is wrong and order us to mold our lives in your image. Fuck that and fuck you. House Redfort will not support some satanic bastard." Lord Redfort spat at him before turning tail and leaving the High Hall.

"I do not expect you to blindly believe anything," Jon said as he began to undo the buttons on his gambeson. "The fact that I am standing here today before you is proof that the dead can rise again. I died and remained dead for seven days and then I arose once again. If I can come back why couldn't the Others do the same and raise corpses out of their graves?" He pulled the vest open leaving his marred chest open to their hungry gaze. "I wish it were not the case, but dead men can live again and I am only the first to do so on this side of the wall."

"We must be prepared for when the Others come. We must be united so we can stand against them. I am not asking to be King so I can reclaim my family's rightful seat of power. I am not asking to be King so I can rule Westeros and enforce my will on the people. I am not asking to be King so I can live in the lap of luxury and never want for anything again. I am claiming the throne so I have the authority to stop them. I am claiming the throne so I have the authority to send all of our armies to the wall when the time comes. I am claiming the throne so that I have the authority to demand that all of the dead be burned to prevent them from rising against us. I have to make the hard choices and do whatever is necessary to survive, no matter how unpleasant it might be. I am choosing to fight for life itself."

"Do you want to know what I think?" Lord Melcolm asked rhetorically. "I think that you are lying about these Northern myths being a reality. I think that you and your bride are merely using this excuse to inflict your foreign and Northern ways on our lives. You are trying to force us to mold ourselves after your own life, to follow Targaryen and Northern traditions in place of our own. I will not stand for it. The High Septon said that the false god, the Lord of Light brought you back from the dead as his champion to poison our minds and tear us away from doing what is right, and what is good. Clearly he was right in that belief. We will not fall for your lies and deception. We will not betray our God or our King. House Melcolm will never support a bastard, even if it means our death."

He rose to his feet and he too exited the high hall. As par the course, he too inspired others to act against Jon and almost all the remaining Lords followed him out, pledging to at best remain neutral and not oppose Jon. More likely based on their words, they planned on siding with the Lannisters against him. His attempts to unite the realm had only divided it more than ever.

When the dust settled there were only six Lords of the Vale remaining in the room with them. Lord Baelish remained as Jon expected he would. He needed Jon on the throne for him and Sansa to ascend to Jon's throne. His loyal dogs, Lord Lyonel Corbray and Lord Benedar Belmore also remained. The other three houses were at least something positive that they hadn't known they would get or that Jon hadn't screwed up. He had clearly gotten at least someone on his side so maybe this whole visit wasn't entirely useless.

Lord Gerold Grafton remaining wasn't that surprising, although Jon hadn't planned for them being here in a worst-case scenario. House Grafton was one of the only Houses in the Vale who had fought on behalf of the Targaryens in Robert's Rebellion. The current Lord's father was murdered in Robert's Rebellion by Robert Baratheon himself. It was only natural that he would want vengeance against the alleged son of the man his father was killed by. It was to be expected that he would want to see the cause that his father died for realized. He might believe Jon mad, but he had fought for the Mad King so clearly that wasn't a major issue for him.

Lord Triston Sunderland wasn't someone Jon had expected the support of in any capacity but they remained behind. The Sunderland's were distant from the majority of the Vale as they Lorded over the three sisters within the bite. Jon had thought that they held no love for Targaryens but perhaps he was mistaken. They had rebelled when Aegon the Conqueror had taken the Vale and one of their own had crowned herself before their own people rebelled against the self-proclaimed Queen. In fear of Aegon's wrath, they had killed her and her brother had bent the knee to Aegon. They had been the staunchest of Blackfyre supporters and were, in fact, the only ones who sided with the Blackfyres in the entirety of the Vale. They had also fought alongside Robert Baratheon to remove the Targaryens from power. It seemed completely out of character for them to side with him.

Then again maybe it was exactly what they would do. House Sunderland had lived in the self-contained bubble of his ideal world for years. Perhaps they did just want the rest of the world to be the same way. They had crowned Marla Sunderland as Queen for a brief time even while there was still a male heir because she was the eldest. They had also fought on behalf of Rhaenyra Targaryen in the Dance although a good portion of the Vale had done so as it was the honorable thing to support the rightful heir and not the usurping younger half-sibling. They had supported a bastard's claim to the throne in the Blackfyre rebellions so perhaps it shouldn't come as a surprise that they had no qualms with supporting another one.

The final House who remained in the High Hall after Jon had managed to turn every other lord away was Lord Uthor Tollett. Jon had hoped that he could count on the distant cousin of his friend in the Night's Watch but he hadn't actually depended on his support. Ed was a part of a smaller and poorer branch of the family, not the main branch that wielded power, and offered him men like the one who sat before him.

"I was skeptical when I came here," Lord Ulthor admitted in a soft voice. "I didn't plan on bending the knee to you, or getting involved at all in this rebellion." He chuckled. "I certainly didn't plan on swearing all of my forces to you, to fight against dead men."

"Eddison Tollett has been writing to us weekly for the past four moons. I've never spoken to him nor had any desire to but he came to me begging for aid repeatedly. He warned us of the Others lurking beyond the wall. The first time I received a raven I hastily discarded it. I did the same with the second and third ravens. When the fourth raven arrived and I discarded it without reading the letter, my wife took note and decided to read it herself. She found the tales of the Others, fascinating. She didn't think them real but she found the stories enthralling. She took to reading some of the northern myths for herself as the letters continued to pour in. They were just stories though, it was impossible for the myths he shared to be real."

"A little over three moons ago- after a short stoppage in the letters those letters started mentioning Jon Targaryen. The King that my cousin begged us to support because you were the only one who understood the real threat and could defeat it. His letters switched from begging us to send men to the wall, to sending men to support you. We refused his demands as they continued to pour in, if you truly were who he claimed you were then you were dead already. There was no way you could defeat the Lannisters and Boltons, sending men to you would be sending them to their deaths."

"Then somehow you had a dragon and defeated both the Lannisters and Boltons against impossible odds. Just like Eddison had assured us you would. He said to never doubt you, that you always pulled through, and urged us to ally with you and he was right. You won. You are unburnt like he claims, you do ride a dragon, and you truly did die. Magic is real, there is no denying that. You are the leader with the heart for the common folk he told us you were. The leader with the passion and drive to see the world become a better place and the one who has actually died trying before. He claims that when all is darkest it is you we should turn to and he is right."

"If this was just about the throne for you then there were better ways to do this. Eddison Tollett had no reason to write to us every week without receiving a response to request our help if there wasn't really an enemy lurking beyond the wall. I want to believe that the Others aren't real because it is easier to believe that. To believe that you are mad like your forefathers is what is safer but I cannot. I will not. You spoke with such honest conviction and gambled the throne to try to convince us that the Others are real."

"The words of House Tollett are When All is Darkest and that time has arrived. If the Great Other is truly stirring than we are in the darkest of times and House Tollett will be the flame that guides the world and shows them the path. That path is clear as day to me. I won't pretend that I agree with all of your goals but it is clear that you are the only path to survival. House Tollett will not be blind any longer to the reality of the world. We might be declared fools but it is better to be a fool than to be blind."

"I Lord Uthor Tollett hail Jon Targaryen as my King, from this day until my last day." He said loudly as he dropped to his knees.

The other five Lords soon echoed his actions but Jon still found it hard to even force a smile at the turn of events. This had been a colossal failure of the highest order. He had personally gained what? One Lord to his cause in this summit with over fifty of them?

Lord Grafton was won to his side because of the actions of Robert Baratheon. Lord's Corbray, and Belmore by Lord Baelish's influence. Even Lord Tollett was due to Edd's persistence, not his. He might have gotten the worst-case estimate of 6,000 men so it wasn't a complete failure but it still felt like one. He had lost this meeting. He just had to pray the Mountain Clans over the next week went better or else he could actually be outnumbered by the Lannisters and possibly even the Freys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes on this chapter but a much shorter explanation than usual since most of the behind the scenes stuff in the Vale is actually shown in the next chapter and then the rest in the upcoming Tommen chapter (31).
> 
> I realize that seatbelts didn't really exist in this time period but considering Tyrion designs a saddle for Bran that straps him in and lets him ride makes the idea perfectly consistent with the universe. I don't remember if Jon canonically ever learns of the saddle Tyrion designed for Bran but it's likely someone in Winterfell or even Edmure could have known and told him if he didn't which inspired the carriage and his own harness. I probably went too in depth on how the carriage worked but after briefly mentioning it in chapter 26 my brain wouldn't let me not figure out how exactly it would function.
> 
> Jon tells Sansa what happened to Arya and she talks some sense into him about whose fault it is due to her similar experiences. We'll get her thoughts on the revelations in the next chapter.
> 
> Jon's (And Daenerys's) plans to conquer the whole world and break the wheel everywhere is very morally questionable. Are you doing the right thing by plunging the world into war if it's to make it a better place? Is being a dictator a good thing if it betters the life of the common man? Is stealing from those with the power to empower the weakest men fair and good? Jon and Daenerys are very much the moral leaders but their choices are not always black and white. I do feel the need to clarify that Sansa's lack of empathy towards those in Westeros isn't a her being a horrible person or intentionally racist but the systematic us and them mentality that is very much prevalent in the real world.
> 
> I knew from the beginning that I didn't want to have non-Valyrians have positive interactions with dragons. Canonically they aren't friendly with those of non-Valyrian blood but I took that to another level. Rhaegal isn't going to let non-Valyrians on his back. He doesn't trust them. Jon as bonded to Rhaegal and sharing his mind is going to share some of that distrust towards non-Valyrians and easy trust and affection of Valyrians. Jon can not just detect Valyrian blood and know not to trust his senses. His mind will try to come up with alternate explanations for his trust or distrust then just blood. The amount of Valyrian blood does play a part here. Not all Valyrian heritage will be known as some people are secretly bastards or have difficult to trace backgrounds. It is absolutely a weakness of his and a huge blind spot for him. Mya Stone has a much larger purpose here than just being someone of Targaryen blood that will be revealed later. In spite of what Jon thinks, this is part of his instant easy trust in Daenerys even after she chained Rhaegal up.
> 
> Ned Stark's famous honor isn't a Northern thing like the show portrays it as but more so a product of growing up in the Vale as the ward of Jon Arryn. The Vale on its wiki page it is expressively stated "The people of the Vale, are known as reliable warriors steeped in honor and the worship of the Faith of the Seven." Those are the only things said about the personality of the people of the Vale so I leaned into it heavily. I initially had something very similar to this planned for the Riverlands with the Vale coming into the fold fairly easy but upon reading that I pivoted course. As the faith of the seven decries bastards it was never going to be easy for him to get the support of religious men due to his birth status. Twisting words and underhanded manipulation is considered dishonorable. What worked in the North did sort of dig his grave here although there is more than just that at play here.
> 
> House Sunderland is literally the only House in the Vale that sides with the Blackfyres in the first rebellion per the wiki, they obviously have no problem with bastards and are even endeared towards them. House Grafton's explanation for siding with Jon is again copy and pasted from the wiki. He gets Lord Tollett because I wanted someone to be persuaded and I wanted Ed to do something since he's kind of lost a clear role without being Lord Commander.
> 
> Jon has really had a terrible day so far. He learns that Arya was raped and fails to get almost the entire Vale. A day that will continue in the next Jon chapter as he meets with the various Mountain Clans and tries to gain their loyalty. (Also that chapter has reflection on what went wrong here and what not).
> 
> The next chapter is probably my favorite chapter of the story so far as we go back to Sansa's POV for what is essentially a Baelish chapter. Unless I forget what day it is again, it should be out on Friday.


	29. Sansa IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that the chapter is a day late. My laptop charger broke on Wednesday and the new one didn't get here until today.

Once the last Lord, Lord Gerold Grafton had sworn fealty to Jon and House Targaryen, and the High Hall was empty once more aside from the three of them, Baelish turned to Jon with a frown. "Well, that could have gone better."

Indeed it could have been better, there was no disagreement on that matter amongst them. The meeting with the Lords of the Vale had been even worse than the worst-case scenario. The Lords had rebuffed all of Jon's goals and desires, instead just believing him a usurping bastard which in a way Sansa supposed he was. He had been too heavy-handed in his approach with the Lords, treating them like the Northern Lords who had every reason to want him on the throne, even if it meant agreeing with a few things they didn't like. Jon sitting the Iron Throne would not bring any pride to the Vale. He was working from scratch- or at least he should have been but he had instead chosen to start beneath the earth with shackles on his ankles.

What had happened to Arya had weighed on his mind and impacted his decision making. He was already short of temper usually, but what had happened to Arya had made him have a shorter fuse than usual. He had been distracted the entire time and had been on edge. He had blown up at Robin during dinner, rather than acquiescing to his demands to ride on Rhaegal at least once, a perfectly reasonable request- Jon had refused him. He had in public caused the Lord of the Vale to scream at him, and have one of his seizures. That had done nothing to endear him to the Lords of the Vale.

He had only devolved further throughout the entire evening as he portrayed the same signs of Targaryen madness that Brienne had claimed were there, something that Sansa knew the Lords had picked up on and it had hardened their stances against him. His temper had been erratic, and dangerously unstable with both the Lords and Robin beforehand. His obsession with making himself seem better than everyone else had been his detriment. His goals had been revealed with no grace, or gentleness as Jon instead opted to be overly blunt in his approach. He had come off as arrogant, and a self-absorbed dictator.

Wasn't that who Jon was though? He had told her close to the same thing on the way here this morning. He wasn't content with just ruling Westeros, he needed the entire world. He didn't care whose cultures or traditions he trampled in the way, as long as the world was remade in his image. She did believe in most of what Jon wanted to do, that it was good and his rules had been extremely kind to her so far but that didn't mean that it was right. How many people would be crushed by his rule? How many people would be hurt in his zealous and impossible pursuit of a perfect world? He was forcing men to live in fear to build his world. He had a dangerous temper, how long until all of that evolved into madness? That was, of course, if it hadn't already which was far from a guarantee if Brienne was to be believed.

Was burning men alive in such a brutal fashion as Jon had madness? Was Sansa just being willingly blind to Jon's cruelty in her joy of Ramsey's suffering? He had made those men scream as they died and Brienne was right some of them were innocent and just following orders. Had Jon enjoyed it? She couldn't exactly say that he didn't. Was madness even quantifiable? Jon had some negative habits but surely that didn't mean he was the Mad King born again. There had been plenty of Kings before Aerys who weren't perfect but weren't mad. Jon just was the next in that line.

Of course, Sansa wasn't a complete fool. She understood that Jon was not solely responsible for their failure to gain allies today. Most of the blame lied with Petyr Baelish who had sowed chaos as he always did. She was certain that Baelish had a plan in place even as he intentionally sowed chaos.

He had never intended for Jon to gain an army today. He had seated Jon on the highest dais in the high hall and on the throne of the Arryn's for that exact purpose. He had told her while she was still Alayne that the lords would take offense at that. _Cheeks born so low as mine must never aspire to such lofty cushions._

Jon for all the titles he now carried and the crown he wore upon his head was born a bastard. Him sitting in the throne of the Kings of the Vale was a slap in the face to the proud and traditionalist Vale Lords. That alone had turned them more hostile towards him.

Jon had been put in an impossible situation at dinner when Robin had a seizure and had screamed at him. He couldn't have punished Robin or even Baelish without possibly losing the Vale. He had to forgive them. The lack of retribution against Robin had given the Lords courage to not fear retaliation from Jon. Something that Baelish had hammered in by mentioning guest right and how all of them would be allowed to leave if they kneeled or not. They had no reason not to question Jon with that promise and proof that Jon wouldn't harm them for defiance. It was a masterful move by Baelish to stop Jon from gaining allies.

The only question was why? Didn't Baelish want Jon to be King so she could inherit his throne? How did taking away allies help in that endeavor? Was she mistaken about Baelish's endgame? When they had met and he agreed to call this meeting the plan had seemed so simple. They both wanted Jon to be King so Sansa could inherit the throne after his and Daenerys's death. That plan shouldn't have changed over the last month yet it had. The only reasoning Sansa could think of behind Baelish's manipulations was that he wanted to be the one who gained all of Jon's allies in order to gain his trust. Yet did Baelish need Jon's trust to usurp him in favor of Sansa? She doubted that, and it made his motives all the more indecipherable.

Jon turned towards Baelish at the sound of his voice. His bronze eyes practically glowed and there were flames dancing in them. "I was told you were going to give me the Vale, in exchange for taking Robin as my squire and placing you on my council!" Jon snapped somewhat irrationally as he seemingly gave into his anger. "You failed to deliver on your end of the bargain."

Baelish didn't even bat an eye at Jon's rage. "Surely, you didn't expect to get the entirety of the Vale in one day, Your Grace." He said calmly, with a knowing glint in his eyes. "This time might not have gone perfectly, but not all is lost, Your Grace. We can still get the Vale to fight for you, it will just take time."

"How?" Jon roared like his dragon. "They will never support a usurping bastard! They won't defy their Gods! They believe me to be a mad man! How do you think you can convince them that I should be King when their Gods say otherwise?"

Baelish merely smirked. "The answer is quite obvious, Your Grace. I don't convince them of anything. I leave the convincing up to the Gods. The High Septon claims that you are a mad man. A practitioner of dark magic, and a heathen from the wild. An evil satanic bastard. That is why the Lords hate you so much."

He clicked his tongue. "That is only one Septon, not all of them. We simply find a Septon respected as much if not more so than the High Sparrow and have them be your herald. Have them proclaim you as the chosen of the seven, the one who will free Westeros from a tyrannical Lannister rule. The one who is the champion of the common man, and who is manifesting the Gods' will on this earth. The one who the Stranger voluntarily relinquished his hold on, and allowed to return to life. Your goals are noble at heart, and when the Gods proclaim your way as the Gods' way men will believe it because it is what makes sense."

Jon nodded subdued by Baelish's calm approach and recommended course of action. "I trust you have a Septon in mind? Who will willingly spread lies on my behalf?"

"They are only lies if you believe them to be so," Baelish said with a smile that reached his eyes for once. "I have multiple Septons in place to be your heralds and contradict some of the slander from the High Septon."

Jon nodded. "I trust that you will see it done?"

"At your word, Your Grace," Baelish agreed amicably.

Jon looked towards Sansa who gave a slight nod in confirmation. She hated to give Baelish this power but they did need the Vale, and positive propaganda by the seven would only help them in the end, even if it also helped Baelish weasel his way closer into Jon's graces. Jon had already given him too much ripe, what was a little more? Jon nodded firmly at her confirmation. "Then do it." He ordered.

Jon sighed and pursed his lips before speaking again. "If my army will be smaller than planned, and have discord and strife within our ranks than we should give Tommen's army the same treatment."

Baelish lifted an eyebrow and grinned like a Cheshire cat. "What do you have in mind, Your Grace?"

"Sansa tells me that you were the one responsible for the purple wedding," Jon said quietly.

Sansa stutter-stepped back in shock and her hand flew up to cover her mouth and try to hide her surprise, they had not agreed to reveal that Jon was aware of Baelish's responsibility for that event.

Baelish glanced over at Sansa with slightly narrowed eyes. "I was, Your Grace," Baelish confessed. "I was blinded by rage over the death of my beloved Cat at the orders of King Joffrey, I only wanted to save her only daughter from suffering the same fate. When I had the chance to get her out of there I took it."

Jon nodded in agreement. "I can't thank you enough for that but you were not the only one responsible for the purple wedding. You collaborated with Olenna Tyrell."

Baelish's lips twitched upwards and he let out a light laugh. "Indeed, I did." His eyes were dancing with merriment as he already knew where Jon was going with this and clearly approved.

"Why not let that information loose? The Tyrells were responsible for the murder of Joffrey, they murdered their King so they could have Tommen rule instead. Let the information tear them apart and keep them divided and easily defeated."

"That won't work," Sansa spoke up. "The Tyrells are too good at playing this game, and making you believe that they care that they could easily fool Tommen into believing it is just a lie of the enemy. Perhaps, if Cersei still was alive and had power it might divide them but fortunately, she's not. We missed that opportunity."

Baelish chuckled. "My dear, you still have so much to learn. The goal of this endeavor isn't to divide Margaery Tyrell and Tommen Baratheon. There is almost nothing that could divide them at this point as they both are latched onto power and desperate to retain it. There is more to an army than simply the Lords and Ladies that command them. The goal is to divide their soldiers. Make the Lannister soldiers not trust the Tyrells they march beside. To make the common men turn on each other, and let unrest break out in their encampments. In the chaos of battle when a Tyrell arrow accidentally strikes a Lannister, it won't be seen as an accident by the suspicious soldiers but a deliberate attack from their so-called allies."

"Indeed," Jon nodded in agreement. "Indeed. I trust that you can see this rumor spread as well?"

Baelish laughed once more with a grin that reached his gray-green eyes and made them almost glow in the light. "I will, Your Grace," he agreed immediately. "All these rumors you're asking me to spread does have me wondering, am I to serve as your Master of Whispers?"

Jon shook his head. "No. Varys is our Master of Whispers. If you can get me at least another 5,000 Valemen then you will have a spot on my council, but that spot has yet to be determined."

"So your Queen has the spider?" Baelish asked in faux surprise. "How about Master of Coin then? I served in that role for both King Robert and King Joffrey."

"We already have a Master of Coin in Tyrion Lannister. We will make a ruling on your position once you have delivered on your end of the bargain." Jon said with some notable frustration.

"Perhaps I could serve as-"

"Enough!" Jon roared finally losing his temperament. "I will assign you a role when I assign you a role. Nagging me will not make that come any quicker. If you want to prove yourself loyal to me, and that you deserve a high spot on my council then you can give me the Vale. Until then I have no desire to freely give you power."

"Apologies, Your Grace, I was only trying to help," Baelish said with false sincereness.

Jon scoffed. "I will go now and meet with the Mountain Clans, and hope to have better luck with them then these pig-headed Lords. I should be gone for about a week. The two of you are to do your best to convert the Lords of the Vale to my cause, or at least get me another chance to speak with them, be that through blackmail, manipulation, or fear. You, Lord Baelish are to set to spreading the rumors we have discussed. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Your Grace, I will see it done before you return." Baelish agreed.

"Aren't you at least going to wait until morning before departing?" Sansa asked with some trepidation. She didn't want to be alone with Baelish longer than she had to be.

Jon shook his head and gave her what she assumed was meant to be a reassuring smile. "I need to go for a flight and clear my head. Might as well do something productive instead of just a joy ride."

Sansa nodded feebly and Jon turned away from them and exited the High Hall leaving her alone with Baelish.

The moment the door latched shut behind Jon, she was pulled into Baelish's arms. Sansa tensed in his grip.

Thankfully Baelish didn't appear to notice her discomfort. "I missed you, my dear Sansa," Baelish murmured into her hair and pressed his lips to the back of her scalp.

"I as well," Sansa agreed untangling herself from his arms. "However, business must come before pleasure." She said evenly.

Baelish sighed. "Very well, what do we need to discuss?" He asked letting go of her and taking a small step away from her.

"What was that?" Sansa demanded heatedly.

"What was what?" Baelish replied playing the fool. "I'm afraid you must be more specific. I was under the impression that everything went perfectly."

"I thought you wanted the Vale to fight for him. I thought you wanted Jon to be King so I could be Queen."

Baelish chuckled. "I do want your cousin to take the throne so you can be Queen. That does not mean that I want the Vale loyal to him."

"What does that mean? Do you expect that he will take the throne without the Vale? He'll cast you aside if the Vale doesn't fight for him. We need the Vale."

"Tell me, my dear sweet Sansa, is it better to have the Vale loyal to King Jon and by extension you or loyal to you and by extension King Jon?" Baelish reached out and grabbed her hand, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of it. "There is always a chance that King Jon doesn't die as planned, if it comes to a civil war between the two of you I want the armies on your side, not his. The Vale will not ever stand for Jon Snow the bastard sitting the Iron Throne. But Sansa Stark? She they will kneel before."

"You wanted Jon to fail?" Sansa asked in disbelief. "You intentionally sabotaged Jon's efforts. Why? The Lords hate you, how do you plan on getting them to support you if they won't even kneel to Jon when he has a dragon?"

Baelish smiled. "Aye, I wanted King Jon to fail. It was all too easy to poison their minds against King Jon. Robin's missed serving of sweetsleep today to get him on edge, and make a seizure almost certain to occur. When the King they were here to support made their much-beloved Lord Arryn have a seizure that was only going to harden their already stone-cold hearts even more. The only way it could have gone better is if he had screamed at Robin during dinner. A few subtle maneuverings such as placing him on the Arryn's throne and introducing himself as a Stark and Targaryen King was always intended to make him appear as just an arrogant power-hungry bastard who wanted to be something he wasn't."

"I'll admit that your cousin was more charismatic than I anticipated, and he was well prepared for the meeting. His talking points were well written and he had some good arguments that might have worked if the Lords had been at all willing to listen. Unfortunately for His Grace, he had already guaranteed that they wouldn't when he arrived."

Sansa inhaled sharply. "Mya," she gasped in horror as she finally realized the real purpose of her escorting them. "You didn't just choose her to see how he would react around a Baratheon." She had played directly into Lord Baelish's hands completely unknowing at the time. She was just trying to get Jon some support but her actions might have cost him the Vale.

Baelish nodded. "Indeed. Mya Stone was the key piece to the puzzle. I'll admit I was curious to how he would handle himself around a Baratheon but her father was not why she had to be the one I chose. Can you guess at why it had to be her who escorted him?"

Sansa nodded mutely. "You wanted her to learn of Jon's goals, so the word would spread beforehand. You knew because I was aware of how Jon's rules affected her, I would share them with her."

"Close but not quite. It was her past relationship that was the key but not their effect on her. It was about who it was with. She had her affair with Ser Mychel Redfort who happened to be engaged to be married to Ysilla Royce. House Royce and House Redfort were the two houses most vocal in their desire to join your eldest brother in his fight against the Lannisters and were two powerful Houses who likely would have bent the knee to King Jon."

"Of course, I couldn't allow that to happen so I made sure both Lord Horton and Lord Yohn hated him beforehand. When your cousin told Mya Stone that she could marry Ser Mychel Redfort and that the forced engagement to lady Ysilla Royce held no power the die was cast. Mya Stone in her excitement over the news, of course, rushed to tell her beloved, and all of her friends of the goodness of King Jon. Lord Yohn and Lord Horton heard how the King they planned to kneel to had interfered in their marriage alliance, they were rightfully enraged. They had yet to kneel to him and he was still interfering and commanding them. They would not support him, or see him in at all a positive light after that. His two biggest supporters here had been turned into his two greatest enemies just like that."

"His goals were always going to be controversial and the High Septon has done his job perfectly in casting him in a negative light. He only fanned that image when you crowned him, and did his coronation instead of a Septon as was tradition. He rejected the seven publicly which was never going to be well-received."

Sansa had been responsible for Baelish succeeding. She had been played the fool and manipulated into thinking that it was her idea to coronate Jon, not his. He had given her the crown for him to wear and Sansa had thought nothing of it, she had thought he was trying to get close to Jon with it not use it to undermine him. His hope had always been that Sansa would want to formally crown Jon as was tradition. She had tried to do something nice for her brother for once and it had backfired spectacularly.

"The big Wild Card here was Ser Symond Templeton." Baelish continued unaware of her internal agony. "His family has some recent Stark blood that could tie him to King Jon, or at least the point where he would be willing to hear King Jon's reasoning. Still, he was easily neutralized simply by mentioning where he could overhear that King Jon planned on reaching out to the Mountain Clans which the Templetons have been locked in a conflict with for centuries. That revelation made Ser Templeton willing to oppose King Jon even if he would have knelt otherwise. I arranged it so King Jon had no support outside of myself and my men determined before the meeting took place, and without anyone influential willing to speak in his favor, it would be hard to gain any allies and challenge their pre-conceived opinions of him."

"To what end though? Why jump through all these hoops needlessly?" Sansa wondered aloud. "How will you get them to bow before me- before us and not him? They hold no love for you either, or even for me."

Baelish grinned and his eyes twinkled brightly. "We give them exactly what they want more than anything."

* * *

"Lord Yohn, Lord Nestor," Lord Baelish greeted the two Lords as they entered the solar. "Thank you for taking the time to meet with us."

Sansa sat behind the desk with Baelish slightly to her right and the other two lords seated across from her. She was to be in the position of power here as it was her not Baelish who would be Queened.

"Save us the pleasantries, Baelish," Lord Yohn said dismissively. "Our answer has not changed. We will not bow before some mad bastard regardless of how many times you ask. Just because you are too cowardly to stand for what is right and have no honor does not mean we will follow suit. House Royce is a house of honorable men, not cowards who would do anything to save their own skins."

"You will die you know," Sansa argued. "If you choose to oppose King Jon then he will destroy you. He has dragons- three of them even. Why refuse to kneel if it means your own end? Follow in your ancestors' footsteps and kneel before the Conquerer. Don't throw you and your family's lives away in vain. You-"

"You insult our House, Lady Sansa." Yohn snarled. "I will not toss aside my honor, and prostrate myself before a mad bastard dragon even if it is the end of me. I will never call your Jon Snow a King. We will fight this King until his death, or ours. The Dornish held against the dragons and House Royce will do the same. We will never let a bastard sit the Iron Throne, no matter the cost. If it is the end of our House, so be it. We will not be remembered as cowards but they will sing songs of our courage and fortitude."

"You did not let the lady finish, My Lord." Baelish tutted. "How is it that you plan on defeating a King with dragons exactly?"

"You can kill a dragon with Scorpions and other Ballista, the same way the Dornish did it. House Royce has plenty of capable marksmen, if anyone can bring down a dragon it is us." Nestor said with pride and some confusion.

Baelish tutted once more. "I'm afraid you misunderstood my question, My Lords, I asked how you defeat a King who has dragons, not how you kill those dragons. It seems like a small difference, but it is a crucial one."

Both Lord Royce's flushed and turned to Sansa who had a perfectly calm facade in place. "What are you suggesting, My Lady?" Lord Yohn asked apprehensively.

Sansa sighed and steeled herself to publicly betray Jon even if it was in theory what he wanted. Would he see it that way when she told him of her methods? Or would he take it as a betrayal? It was one thing to work with just Baelish to usurp him, and another to work with an entire Kingdom in that same endeavor. Perhaps it would be for the best if he was unaware of what exactly had caused the Lords to bend the knee to him. "We are all of one accord here. We all agree that the bastard, Jon Snow should never be allowed to sit the Iron Throne."

"Is this a trick?" Lord Yohn bellowed. "You serve as Jon Snow's hand and have bent the knee to him. Are you suggesting that you want to usurp your cousin? Why?"

Baelish grinned and Sansa let him answer for her. Just saying that first part had been hard enough for her. "That brings us back to that question. How do you defeat a King who has dragons?"

"You kill the dragons in combat, how else would you do it?" Lord Nestor snarled annoyed with Baelish's repentance.

"You just aren't listening, are you?" Baelish sighed and turned to Lord Yohn. "What about you? Surely, you have some idea on how to defeat a King and Queen who have dragons. Or are you as clueless as your cousin?"

"You don't want to kill the dragons. You plan on taking the dragons for yourself, and using them against them." Lord Yohn guessed. "How would you ever hope to pull that off? Do you have a secret Targaryen hiding under the desk? I will not support them either. We are done with kneeling to dragons."

Baelish sighed over dramatically once more. "No, although you are correct that I see no need to kill the dragons immediately. The way you defeat a King who happens to have dragons is by making sure that he can't use his dragons. You attack from the inside so he can't use his dragon's fire on us without slaughtering his own men. The only way to defeat a dragon is to neutralize it since killing it is a foolish dream."

"A Targaryen can not be allowed to sit the Iron Throne ever again, a bastard even less so. We will not suffer the second Mad King ruling the realm once again. Yet we can't stop that from happening by refusing to kneel. All our refusal to kneel does is result in our own death. The self-professed King has dragons and his victory is a near-certainty. That does not mean he has to remain King for very long, just that he will claim the Iron Throne eventually with or without your help. The only way to stop a bastard from calling himself King is to call him King."

Sansa wrung her suddenly very sweaty hands nervously beneath the desk as Baelish looked to her to continue where he left off. "We're- I'm not asking you to kneel because I want Jon to be King, I don't. He would be a horrible King, he plans on uprooting all of our traditions, and customs in favor of his new world. He has already overstepped and tried to squash down the very rules of our society and he doesn't plan to stop there. He doesn't just want to rule Westeros but the entire world. He and his bride plan on _modernizing_ all of the world and forcing them to abide by his rules and leadership. He wants to make foreigners and bastards equal to us, nobleborn men and women.."

The looks of horror on the Lord Royces' faces and Petyr's dancing eyes made Sansa feel a punch of guilt but she shrugged it off. She was only doing what Jon had asked and getting him the Vale by whatever means necessary. It wasn't as if she was lying either. Jon had confessed to wanting all of that. He might not have specifically mentioned making bastards equal but he had said everyone was equal- except him, and _his Daenerys_ , of course, and bastards were included in that even if not specifically mentioned. "I have no intention of allowing that to happen but there is nothing any of us can do to stop him on our own."

"It's not honorable and I'm sure my Father would be ashamed of me for this, but neither is what Jon plans to do and I like to think he would understand that Jon had to be stopped even if it was through dishonorable means. He never considered Jon a son of his." She sighed and folded her hands over the desk. "Not everything Jon plans on implementing is entirely bad. He plans on making women have an equal claim to men in the line of inheritance. That means that I am his heir when he meets his tragic demise prematurely."

"Rickon might have been a fine choice as his heir under normal circumstances but that is no longer the case thanks to the actions of Theon Turncloak. Who by the way Queen Daenerys has not executed for his crimes, but instead has allied with Yara Greyjoy and offered the Iron Islands their own partial independence." She shook her head. "That is besides the point, pardon me. Rickon has been raised by a Wildling for the last three years. There is no one that he trusts more, and he listens to her in everything. Jon has only encouraged his connection with the savages from the far North, and has done nothing to see him influenced by a more respected party. If Rickon were to be crowned King then we might as well just crown a wildling."

Sansa looked the two lords up and down. They were still on the fence on if they really wanted to do the dishonorable thing and pretend to kneel to Jon or if they wanted to simply refuse to kneel and die. Jon for all they believed him mad had shown he had some honor at least by not harming them for their refusal yet. She had to convince them that Jon had already forsaken honor- or more so that his Queen had. They needed to see him as heartless and see the betrayal as personal. _I'm so sorry Arya._ Sansa thought to herself as she wiped away a stray tear that leaked out of the corner of her eyes.

"Queen Daenerys is even worse than Jon. She crucified 162 men when she took Meereen and slaughtered all of the innocent denizens of Astapor when she claimed her slave army for herself. She cares not for traditions or customs in the slightest. Her laws that Jon has adopted as his own have brought Slavers Bay to it's knees and plunged them in debt. She keeps a Kinslayer, and slaver on her very own council." Sansa closed her eyes and looked away from the Lord Royces. "She has already betrayed House Stark yet Jon plans on Queening her all the same." She was surprisingly bitter about that fact, Sansa noticed as she spoke it aloud. Perhaps it was not just a lie. Jon should not be marrying the woman who had employed her rapist. The actions of Daario Naharis were more than enough reason to break that contract but Jon did not want to do so. He wanted to marry his beloved in spite of her blunder and the pain that it had caused House Stark.

"Have you wondered what happened to Arya Stark? She's not dead. She managed to escape the Lannisters hunting her and wound up in Meereen." Sansa stopped trying to keep a calm facade up and let her tears of frustration leak out. "The Queen Daenerys might have been Queen of Meereen but she could not even control her own people. Arya was raped by the captain of her sellswords, Ser Daario Naharis. In spite of Arya's rape at the hands of Ser Daario, Jon refuses to break his betrothal with her." Sansa said her voice thick with emotion.

"The bastard does not care that the Lady Stark was raped by her men? He cares so little about the children of the man who raised him?" Lord Yohn questioned. "Why would any man be so cruel? He truly is a black-hearted mad Targaryen bastard."

Sansa dodged the question instead of lying. "For the same reason as his father raped his mother and the same justification that caused a war before. He fancied himself in love with the Dragon Queen and will not let anything stop him from having his beloved. Even his supposed sister's rape."

"You would have us to kneel to such an evil ungodly man?" Lord Nestor protested. "Why not kneel to King Tommen instead and rise up together to crush the bastard. I don't like King Tommen either but the enemy of our enemy is our friend. Surely, we should choose the lesser of the two evils here."

"You forget that there are not only two options here," Lord Baelish interjected. "King Tommen is no better than King Jon. I am as firm of a follower of the faith of the seven as anyone but Tommen has given them too much power. The seven should not be the highest authority in the Seven Kingdoms. The Faith Militant have absolute power and they are as prone to corruption as anyone and punish innocent men for the smallest of sins. The Gods appointed a King to rule, not so the faith could rule while the King is fat and happy."

"The Baratheon reign has been brutal on the Seven Kingdoms. Possibly even worse than that of the Mad King. Robert Baratheon spent all the Gold in the Seven Kingdoms on his whores, grand feasts, and tourneys. When I stepped down as Master of Coin, the Seven Kingdoms were ten-million gold dragons in debt. Joffrey Baratheon was a cruel vile bastard who suffocated the realm and killed men for the slightest offenses. He had to die to save the realm which is why I with the help of Lady Olenna Tyrell killed him. I would not suffer a second Mad King and I still won't."

"You?" Lord Nestor laughed. "You're the one who killed Joffrey at his own wedding? You lecture me about honor when you killed a King at his own wedding?"

"Aye, it was me with the help of Lady Olenna Tyrell and the knowledge of Queen Margaery herself. The woman who you call your Queen murdered her own husband. I will admit it was dishonorable of me to kill Joffrey in such a way but the ends justified the means and it was justice. Joffrey Baratheon was the one who ordered the Red Wedding after all. My dear friend Cat was murdered by the Lannister King at her brother's wedding, I was only evening the scales. The Seven Pointed Star says For as any man injures his brothers in the faith, let the same be done unto him. Fracture for fracture, eye for eye, and tooth for tooth. If any man takes a life without just cause, let him suffer the same."

"The bastard Joffrey Waters was more mad than the Mad King and his reign had to end. Tommen might be more gentle at heart but he is more malleable as well and stupid. He is still a bastard and capable of his brothers cruelty. He too can not be allowed to have the Iron Throne. He might be better than Jon Snow and his laws but he is a terrible choice to serve as King of anyone yet alone the whole of the Seven Kingdoms. Fortunately, we have a third better option." He turned to Sansa as did the two Lord Royces.

"His laws, however, are not entirely bad. They have me as his next of kin and heir." Sansa said quietly regaining control of the conversation. "If we allow him to take the Iron Throne it will not be so he can inherit the throne his forefathers built, it will be so we can take it from the Targaryens and put it in the hands of the trueborn Starks. My father made the wrong choice when he chose to give Robert the Iron Throne instead of claiming it for himself. If he had, the war of the five Kings would have never happened and both he and my brother would still live. The Red Wedding was the result of my father's honor and deference to blood. Let's fix that, and put a Stark on the throne. Jon is not a Stark but I am. I will not suffer the rule of another cruel Targaryen or Baratheon. I'm not asking you to fight for Jon but for me under the guise of fighting for Jon."

Lord Nestor and Lord Yohn exchanged a brief glance before falling to their knees. "My sword is yours. My life is yours. My honor is yours. I swear to remain loyal to House Stark in perpetuity, observe my homage to House Stark in all matters, and swear to never seek to do any trueborn member of House Stark harm without just cause. I swear a lifetime of service to my Queen, Sansa Stark." Lord Yohn intoned with Lord Royce echoing him.

Sansa's heart thumped loudly in her chest. _My Queen_ , she couldn't help the exhilaration she felt at being addressed as that. It has always been her dream to be a Queen. While she might have given up on that dream now, it still was exhilarating to finally be called that. Queen's never lost control for even a moment. She licked her suddenly very dry lips nervously. "As the head of House Stark, and Q-Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, I promise that I will protect you, govern you fairly, and never seek to do your house harm without just cause."

It was a lie. She was not Queen, she never would be even if she wished she was which she didn't. She was only doing what Jon had asked. This wasn't what she wanted. She didn't want Jon's throne she was just trying to gain him allies through this deception. That was all this was. Yet if that was true, why did her heart beat so much faster when they called her My Queen? Why did she feel so pleased seeing them knelt before her, and not Jon? She was just lying, even to herself. There was no harm, in that. She didn't want the throne, the throne was Jon's, not hers.

"I thank you for your service, My Lords," Sansa said quietly. "However, I can not be your Queen publicly yet. For the time being, that must remain Jon. It is too early on in the game to replace him. For now, you must bend the knee to him. There will be a time where you can publicly call me a Queen but not now, and not for a long while."

"The dragons are too useful to risk usurping Jon now. They can give us victory against the Lannisters even while our army is outnumbered if we were to overthrow them now then victory against the Lannisters would no longer be assured. More so, the dragons are the key to winning the great war."

"The Great War?" Lord Yohn asked quietly, "What greater war is there than the one for the Iron Throne?"

Sansa sighed. They had to believe that this war was real or they would not be willing to fight in it but convincing them of such could cost her everything she had gained. It would have been easier to just let them believe Jon was mad for believing in the Others but she knew it wasn't so. "The war between the living and the dead. The Others are real and are lurking beyond the wall, with an army of wights preparing to move south and extinguish all life."

Lord Nestor chortled. "You believe this? Surely these are just the mad ramblings of your cousin, or a trick to try to claim the throne."

Sansa shook her head morosely. "I wish that was the case but it's not I'm afraid. I first met the wildlings when they were preparing his funeral pyre. I tried to insist that they give me Jon to bury as all Starks were, as at the time I believed him to be my father's son and had yet to learn who he really was. The wildling leader refused, insisting that the dead had to be burned so they couldn't come back as a wight. Before Jon was even a Targaryen, when he was dead they still insisted on the Others being real. That isn't a plot from Jon to fool us all. Every single wildling I've spoken too has been insistent that the Others are real and Jon is not exaggerating at all when he calls it impossible odds against them."

"The only path to victory is forged by dragons. The Others and their army have three weaknesses, the most prominent of them being fire. Dragons are the only method to easily control it and desecrate their army. We need Jon and Daenerys Targaryen to control the dragons so for a short time Jon will remain as King. Once the Others are defeated we can take the throne but until then you will have to kneel to Jon as will I."

Lord Nestor gulped audibly. "If that is the command of my Queen then I will obey but my loyalty will always remain yours and I will never truly call your cousin my King."

Lord Yohn nodded in agreement. "I promised you my honor, and while I don't like kneeling to the bastard- even temporarily I will do so but only for a time. Once this threat- if it even exists is taken care of, my loyalty will only belong to you, My Queen."

Her heart fluttered at that address once more. _My Queen_. It was everything she had ever wanted in life. She had complete control if she was Queen. No one would ever be able to hurt her again, not Ramsay, Baelish, or even Jon. That was as tempting as anything. She needed that control and it was being dangled in front of her. She had men loyal exclusively to her now, an army of her own, not just Jon's. No longer would she have to rely on someone else coming to her rescue. She had men who would protect her and even die for her. She hated how happy that security made her. She only had them because they thought she would betray Jon. She wouldn't do that, would she?

"I thank you for your loyalty, My Lords," Sansa replied amicably. "You are to attend another meeting with the Lords of the Vale and King Jon once his Queen Daenerys arrives in Westeros. At that meeting, you are to be persuaded to his cause, and speak on his behalf. You are to publicly bend your knee to the Targaryens, and submit yourselves to their cause. In your hearts and minds you will retain loyalty to me but in the eyes of all the Lords, and all your people Jon will be King and Daenerys Queen. You are not to tell anyone of what we have discussed here today or it will be considered an act of treason. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly, Your Grace," Lord Yohn agreed. _Your Grace,_ it sounded so much better when it was used to refer to her and not King Robert, Cersei, Joffrey, or even Jon. She could get used to hearing that. It was her grace, not anyone else's. It was her favor, goodwilll, and honor they strived for and were honored by. She liked having that but she wouldn't betray Jon. She had no intention to do that now.

But what if Brienne and Lord Royce were right? What if Jon truly was as mad as his ancestors. Was she being biased by thinking him not? Even if he wasn't yet, who is to say that he wouldn't go that way in the future. If he did she would have to be Queen, and she needed to be prepared for that eventually. Perhaps it was best to have these contingencies in place, just in case. A plan she could spring to usurp Jon was necessary. Not for her own selfish desires, of course, she would never betray Jon for power but if he went mad she would have no choice but to usurp him. Reluctantly, of course.

"We will not tell a soul, Your Grace." Lord Nestor agreed easily.

Her heart fluttered once more at the title. "Thank you, My Lords," She looked away from them and down at the parchment on her desk before grabbing a quill and pretending to write something as if that thing was more important then the Lords. This was a power play, and she needed it to be clear that she was the one who held all the power here. "You can leave now. I have other business to attend to."

They did as bidded and left Sansa alone with Lord Baelish once again. They were alone together much more than Sansa would have liked. If Jon hadn't left due to a foolish desire to try to reach the Mountain Clans, a vain mission, then she wouldn't have been put in this position. Instead, she was forced to cozy up to the man who had sold her as a slave to Ramsay Bolton for his own ambition.

"You did well," Baelish complimented her as he sat in what had been Lord Yohn's chair. "You handled yourself with all the grace of a Queen."

Sansa chuckled nervously. "I am a Queen. I could have been a stuttering wreck and I still technically would have handled it with the grace of a Queen. I could have screamed at them and threatened to take their heads and I would have still had as much grace as Cersei."

Baelish tilted his head in acknowledgment. "Fair enough, let me rephrase that. You handled yourself with aplomb." he conceded. "I can't help but wonder about something you told the Lord Royces. You said Arya Stark was in Meereen, under the care of Daenerys Targaryen."

"I did." Sansa acknowledged. She knew he would bring this up as soon as she had mentioned it. He was no doubt planning a million ways to use Arya's suffering for their- no his benefit.

"I can't help but wonder why you never said anything." Baelish mused. "This is precious information. We could have used this information to drive not just the Vale but the North and Riverlands as well to you. We could use it to make all of your cousin's army to yours if we play our cards right. There would be no doubt that we could usurp him."

"No," Sansa said firmly, cutting him off. "I will not use what happened to Arya against her. I might betray Jon, but I won't do the same to Arya, not when she needs me more than ever."

"And if she chooses to support King Jon? Would you not be betraying her by betraying King Jon? Don't let her rape be meaningless. Use it to help punish the one responsible for her rape, Daenerys Targaryen. The one who was likely the one to knight her bed-warmer, who proceeded to rape Arya."

Ser Daario Naharis was the Queen's bedwarmer? A lowly sellsword captain slept with Jon's Queen? A rapist was someone that Jon's Queen trusted enough to warm her bed. What did that say about her judgement skills. What did it say about Jon's judgement if he still trusted and loved her in spite of her sleeping with Arya's rapist? Who is even to say that Daenerys wasn't behind Arya's rape if she was truly as mad as she appeared to be. It was something her father would have done.

Sansa shook her head. "The answer is still no. Arya is not me who will crave revenge more than anything she might desire it but she won't want to appear weak to get it. Daenerys Targaryen already executed the women who raped her, that will be enough for her in all likelihood. She won't want to appear weak at all by her rape, becoming public knowledge."

Baelish sighed and took her left hand in his. "You have a good heart, my sweet Sansa, but you must be ruthless here if you are to be Queen. Set aside your care for your sister and make the most logical and wise decision-"

"No," Sansa snarled, cutting him off. "I will not betray Arya, not after what she went through. Anyone else I will use but not her. If I have to be emotionless and ruthless towards everyone, I will be but not with Arya, and especially not after what happened to her. My answer is final on this matter, do not attempt to persuade me."

* * *

Sansa gently rapped her knuckles on the doorframe. "Lord Horton," she called out. "It's Sansa Stark, do you have a minute to speak with me?"

There was no response as Lord Horton chose to ignore her. She knew he was in there, a steward had just come from his room and when she had asked had told him he was in there. He was deliberately ignoring her, saying that he didn't respect or recognize her position of authority, not just as Hand of the King but also as Lady Stark.

She knocked once more. "Lord Horton, please, I've come to make amends." She was alone for this meeting. This might have been primarily Baelish's plot but his presence here would only derail her progress. They didn't need to convince Lord Horton to join their coup to get his loyalty although they probably could do that. It wasn't worth the risk ultimately; however, as if news got out and she really did plan on pulling it off it would fail. Jon couldn't know or at least Baelish and everyone else had to believe Jon couldn't know. They just needed to convince him of the benefits of Jon's new world to him personally and there were a number of those.

"Lord Horton!" She called out once more. "I know you're in there!" She was starting to get frustrated now as she stood outside the wooden oak doors patiently waiting for some form of response, even a mumbled go away would have been a positive sign at this point.

"Lord Hort-" The door was flung open and her hand found no wall impeding its progress so it fell through causing her to stumble a bit.

"Lady Sansa," Lord Horton greeted her dressed in only a bathrobe. He was short and graying, and unkempt at the moment with his hair tousled and his robe not even fully buttoned. Sansa recognized it as what it was almost immediately, a power-play. He was trying to show her that she wasn't worth even looking decent for. In all likelihood he had just changed into the robe now. "I apologize for not coming sooner. I was in the midst of a nap. What can I do for you today?" His words might show respect but his actions said differently and told the real story.

Sansa knew that he was lying but she didn't call him out on it. There was no reason to do so and she didn't want to add to the hostilities Jon had already caused between them. "May I come it?" She asked gently.

Lord Horton's eyes narrowed slightly and his face took on a pinched expression, but he nodded and stepped aside. Sansa stepped past him and into the rather droll guest room that had been provided for him while he was at the Eyrie. It was rather bland and unexciting but Sansa knew it was better than what was provided for the stewards, and whatnot.

She took a seat at the table as Lord Horton stepped into the kitchen. "Can I get you anything to drink My Lady?" He called out to her. "Perhaps some wine, ale, or tea."

Sansa winced. "Just water if you please. It is too early in the day to drink."

Lord Horton chuckled in amusement as he poured her a glass of iced water from the pitcher. "Mayhaps it is, but I hope you do not mind if I indulge myself all the same."

Sansa smiled. "By all means."

He set the glass of water in front of her and sat down with his ale. He took a long sip from his glass before letting out a gasp of pleasure as he sat it back down. "If this is about my refusal to support the bastard then my response hasn't changed, my lady. I will never call a bastard my King, and I have no desire to kneel to a Targaryen again." He said passionately.

Sansa frowned. "You are already kneeling to a bastard by choosing to bow to King Tommen. Jon might be a bastard but his bride is not. Surely, you would at least kneel to her?"

Lord Horton frowned. "I told you I will never bow to a dragon again. I fought in a war to tear the last dragon off of the Iron Throne and I will not fight another one to put him back on there. Be they a bastard or a trueborn it matters not."

Sansa smirked. "So what about a Baratheon bastard?" She asked. "Hypothetically speaking, of course, but would you support _her_ claim to the Iron Throne over the Lannister bastard? Is it the bastard or the Targaryen part you disagree with? It really is quite hard to tell."

"Lady Sansa," Lord Horton interjected, cutting her off, his voice carrying a tick of anger in it.

Sansa ignored his interruption. "Oh I got it!" She exclaimed happily a fake grin plastered on her face. "You don't want Jon to be King because he broke the betrothal between your youngest son, and Ysilla Royce."

"Yes," Lord Horton snarled in annoyance. "I will not support an interfering bastard who tries to tell me how to run my household. I will not support a bastard who wants my son to dishonor himself by marrying a bastard. His interference has hurt my house and he had no right to interfere. I never proclaimed him as my King."

Sansa grinned like the cat who got the canary. "I agree that Jon had no right to interfere before you chose him as your King but I can't help but wonder why you are so upset about that. Surely, you see that his interference and your son's pending marriage to Mya Stone are nothing but a good thing for both you and your house."

"You think my son marrying a disgraced bastard whore is a good thing? Do you think that I should be happy about her soiling our noble lineage? Corrupting my son? Mayhaps, you are as mad as your brother, My Lady." Lord Horton roared.

Sansa tutted. "I'm afraid you misunderstood my point. Marrying a bastard would be a horrid thing, but there is a good chance that your son, Ser Mychel, does not marry a bastard."

"If I submitted myself to your King's rule, then my son would have the right to choose. The bastard has bewitched him and he fancies himself in love with her. He would choose her, there is little doubt of that."

"You're not wrong," Sansa admitted with a bow of her head. "Ser Mychel would choose to marry Mya, I do not doubt that fact. What I doubt is if she will remain a bastard."

"Jon has a bit of a soft spot for bastards, having been called one his whole life. He naively believes all bastards to be no different from trueborn sons and daughters in nature. He is also adamant that he will not punish any child for the sins of their father, whoever that may be. He also is quite fond of Mya despite who her father is, and having hardly known her."

"I'm positive I could persuade Jon to legitimize her as Mya Baratheon if I wanted too. As the only known living and now trueborn Baratheon she would be the rightful Lady of Storms End, and her husband would be the Lord of Storms End. Your grandsons would inherit the most significant stronghold in the south. Your prior marriage agreement with Ysilla Royce was of little benefit to you. She ties you closer to the Royces who are already your ally. She does not offer you any new lands, or titles, only a womb. You already have an heir and a spare, so Jon's laws requiring him to relinquish all claim to the Redfort lands should hardly matter to you or him. Mya Baratheon offers you power, and influence, to turn that down out of pride would be extremely foolish."

She was positive she could convince Jon as she claimed she could. He already has a soft spot for Mya Baratheon that she could easily exploit. He had a soft spot for bastards as well and wanted them to rise up above her station. Him choosing to name Larence Snow as Lord of the Hornwood above a Lord who would give them more control over the North and was politically wiser showed as much. He was incessant that he wouldn't judge a son for the sins of their father and actions spoke louder than words. Him legitimizing Mya Stone as a Baratheon would prove the lengths he would go to keep that decree truthful. His legitimization of a Baratheon would also show the world he wasn't mad even if it was not necessarily true. There was also the chance that Mya Baratheon could win them some allies in the Stormlands and with the Baratheon loyalists who refused to support Tommen. She was skeptical of how many since they weren't offering to make Mya a Queen, just Lady Paramount of the Stormlands but they would get some with her on their side.

Lord Horton had a greedy glint in his pale eyes as he looked down at his wine glass and swished the last little bit of it around. "Mayhaps, I was a bit impatient. I should have heard what King Jon had to say before decrying him as the devil. Mayhaps, he inherited some of his uncle's honor after all. Mayhaps, I should get to know Mya before I make any assumptions on who she is. Mayhaps, she is more like her father than I realized. If she were to be legitimized, I can see no reason why I would object to her union with my son. If she were to be legitimized, it would prove to me that he is more the son of Lord Stark than Rhaegar Targaryen, and I would be much more inclined to support his bid for the Iron Throne."

Sansa smiled genuinely as she stood up from her chair. "I'm glad we could come to a reasonable agreement here. Thank you so much for taking the time to speak with me. It has been a pleasure."

Lord Horton Redfort stood as well and clasped her hand. "No, please," he said while shaking her hand. "The pleasure is all mine, My Lady Hand. I apologize for such poor decorum, but you caught me unawares. I promise I will be in a better state the next time you have need of me."

"Think nothing of it, you were within your own room. No one dresses properly when alone behind their own doors. It was my fault for disturbing you." Sansa said dismissively.

"You are too kind, My Lady Hand," he gushed.

Sansa smiled prettily. "As much of a pleasure as this has been, I'm afraid I have other business I must attend to. If I may have your leave?"

"By all means," Lord Horton agreed amicably. The old man rose from his own chair and rushed in front of her to open the door.

Sansa stepped through the doorway and walked a few paces down the hall. When she heard the door creak behind her she spun around. "Oh, Lord Horton," She called out stopping him from shutting the door. "Tell Mya that Sansa Stark sends her regards when you see her. Will you? I would do so myself but I'm afraid I don't quite have the time."

His brow furrowed slightly for a moment but he eventually nodded. "I will, My Lady Hand."

Sansa nodded and lifted her hand in a wave before turning back around and heading back to Baelish's solar. Two Lords had been brought into the fold but they still had three more they needed to have for everything to fall into place and for her- no Jon he was King not her, to have the allegiance of the Vale.

* * *

"Lady Anya Waynwood, it is a pleasure to see you again," Sansa greeted the elderly lady with a smile. "You were so kind to me even when I was just a bastard. I cannot express how much I appreciated it."

"Lady Sansa," Lady Waynwood greeted pleasantly. "I do hope that you will forgive my lack of respect to you while you were just Alayne. If I had known who you were I can assure you I would have treated you as your station demands."

"If you had then my disguise wouldn't have worked so I am grateful you didn't," Sansa joked prompting a chuckle out of the Lady Waynwood.

"I assume you didn't summon me to make small talk, so tell me why am I here Lord Baelish, Lady Sansa." Lady Anya replied curtly after regaining her bearings.

"I'm curious as to why you didn't support King Jon, My Lady. It seems like an out of character move considering where you stand. You refuse to marry your ward, Harold Hardying, and will let him choose his own bride. You yourself are the Lady of your house, why would you be against a woman ruling over your household? Both these things that Jon plans to do, House Waynwood did first. Is it because he's a bastard? But you were so kind to me when I was one, what changed?" Sansa asked.

Lady Anya Waynwood smiled. "Your King has a beautiful world planned, one that I would love to see made manifest but it will never happen."

"How can you think that when Jon has a dragon, and his bride two more? The odds are very tilted in his favor that he will win the war and the throne." Sansa argued.

Lady Waynwood chuckled. "Oh to be young. I have no doubt that your King will take the throne, I don't believe that he will keep it. Aerys Targaryen was once a dreamer too as was Rhaegar Targaryen. They both wanted to make the world a better place, to help people." She sighed."They both lost sight of their dreams once they had that power. Power corrupts everything it comes into contact with. The Lords will push back on that vision your King has, and he like every other King before him will fold under pressure, he'll give up on his new better world to maintain power."

"Jon's not like that." Sansa protested.

"He might not be yet but he will be. He's already showing many of the signs that King Aerys Targaryen did. Arrogance beyond measure, being over presumptuous, and calling himself a dragon. Him burning people alive, without regret. For now, it might be justice as it was with King Aerys but that will eventually no longer satisfy him and it will be the innocents who suffer for it. He's seeing things even, and believes that myths are real just as the Mad King did. His blood will out in the end, and all who are near him will suffer for it. I will not get my family caught in the crosshairs of his rampage." Lady Anya explained.

Was she right? She knew from Brienne who knew from the Kingslayer that Jon had more than a few similarities to the Mad King. He was paranoid, and he did take a perverse pleasure in watching men burn. Could Jonn really go the way of the Mad King? Perhaps it was better to not take that chance- to claim the throne for herself.

She shook her head in denial. No, she would not do that. Jon was good and her brother, not the Mad King. She trusted him. His bride on the other hand? She would have to keep an eye on her. She was a stranger who had shown no goodness in spite of what Jon had claimed. She had let Arya be raped by her lover.

"The myths are unfortunately truly real. The wildlings all testify of the Others existence and the ability to raise the dead. I wish that it was not the case but there unsurmountable evidence of their existence and very little beyond common sense that says otherwise. Jon is not mad like his grandfather. He is good." The words sounded hollow to her own ears. Did she even believe that herself anymore?

She shook her head once more to clear it of the cobwebs. Of course, she did. She knew that Jon was good. He had given Ramsay the death he deserved and had named her Lady of Winterfell he had named her as his hand, and ended the abomination that is arranged marriages. He was good. She knew that, right?

Lady Anya pursed her lips. "Perhaps they are, even if that is the case my answer remains the same. I will not let my family suffer for him, not again. If I support him then my Darcy would be my heir as the Lady Waynwood under his rules. My eldest son, Ser Morton would take that poorly and there would be a succession crisis when I die, likely before your King even has the throne. The majority of our household and bannermen would back my son and my daughter will die needlessly, all because I bent the knee to His Grace, King Jon. I will not let her die for nothing."

"She won't die for nothing. If Lady Darcy bends the knee to Jon, he will fight on her side during any succession crisis. She will inherit your lands, and be made Lady Waynwood. Her children will inherit Ironoaks." Sansa argued.

"If your King is in the midst of his own war then how do you expect him to come join hers? If your King waits until after he has taken the throne, then it will be likely he has given up on his goals and the whole war of succession will have been meaningless." Lady Anya reasoned. "I will not jeopardize my daughter's life for no purpose. She means too much to me to do that."

"Fine," Sansa huffed. "Don't rely on Jon to back your daughter's claim. Rely on me. I swear to you that regardless of where Jon is at in his own war, regardless of how many men your daughter has, and regardless of if Jon has given up on his goals, I will order the Stark forces as Lady Stark, to fight on Lady Darcy's behalf."

"So I should throw my son to the wolves instead? Let him die so my daughter can rule? What kind of parent would I be if I did that? I will not choose between my children. They will both live and my son will be my heir."

Sansa frowned. "My apologies then, my Lady." She whispered.

She raised an eyebrow. "For what?" She asked in confusion.

Lord Baelish slid an envelope across the table to her. "Take a look inside, My Lady. I'm sure you'll find the contents most interesting." He taunted.

She unbound the seal and reached into the envelope, pulling out a stack of papers. She looked over the first one then moved onto the next one, and the next one after that with a growing frown. "These are fabricated," she protested with a hint of anger but the fear showed in her eyes.

"We both know that they are not. I could scarcely believe it when I first heard how much it was. 346,893 dragons is quite a lot of debt for one to occur. I took the liberty of buying up all of the debt that you owed to anyone."

She was shaking with rage. "What do you want?" Lady Anya demanded. "Me to support your King? To let the Mad King reign again?"

Baelish smirked and his eyes sparkled. "That and so much more. You will transfer custody of your ward, Harold Hardying to me so that he can be a role model to the young Lord Robin."

"You're far too bold of a thief, Lord Petyr. You ask too much." Lady Anya claimed. "I won't do it."

Baelish sighed over-dramatically. "I'm afraid that I have no choice but to seize your assets as collateral for your inability to pay the debt then. It will be quite tragic when all of your many children and grandchildren are forced to live on the streets, with no wealth of their own. I'm sure that many of them will die. You'll be mocked, and ridiculed by everyone as the great Waynwoods of the Ironoaks are reduced to no more than peasants because of Anya the prideful. Your children will spit on your name and mock you as they starve on the streets."

Her face was redding rapidly as she tried to maintain her composure in the face of possibly losing everything. "Fine," she snapped off harshly. "If I cannot procure the funds within a moon's turn then I will send Ser Harold to you but I will retain custody over him, and I will support the Mad King. Just grant me some time to set things to right in my household. There will be no more holding this over my head. After that our debts will be repaid in full, and you will toss those documents into the fire."

Petyr smiled although it did not reach his eyes. "That sounds fair enough. You have until that time, My Lady. I look forward to Lord Robin finally getting the chance to meet Ser Harold and King Jon thanks you for your support."

Lady Anya Waynwood did not wait to be dismissed before rising out of her chair and storming away from the solar. Sansa was left alone with Lord Baelish once again.

"Why give her a moon's turn? You could have demanded her fealty now, and Ser Harold as your ward. He is already here, and she would have had no choice but to accept your offer now. Why give her time that you didn't have to?" Sansa asked in confusion.

"There is no way she can repay the debt and the time only benefits us. She will spend the first three weeks floundering about, desperately trying to come up with the funds needed to repay her debts before giving up and making the best of the situation. She will disinherit Lady Darcy to stop a war of succession and her death before she bends the knee to your cousin."

"So why is that a good thing? Why risk her coming up with the funds to stop our plans from coming to fruition when you don't need to. Why does it matter who inherits Ironoaks?" Sansa wondered aloud.

"I could care less about what gender holds it, or who is the rightful heir. I care that Ser Morton is Lord because he has a price. Ser Morton enjoys the finer things, and by that I mean whores, and gold. He is a good part of the reason the Waynwwoods are so in debt. He was spoiled rotten as a child and still lives that way. Darcy on the other hand is known for being straight-laced and reserved. She would prove much harder to control than Ser Morton. With him as Lord, I will be able to retain some control over the Waynwoods even after the debts are gone."

Sansa nodded in understanding. That was the name of the game, wasn't it? Control was always the most important thing. Something that Sansa would never have as long as she bowed to Jon. She would have some measure of it sure, but she would always be acting in his interests before hers. Did she want her possibly mad brother to rule her? Sansa didn't know the answer to that.

* * *

Sansa was preparing for bed after another long and stressful day of working with the man who had sold her as a slave to Ramsay Bolton. They had gotten a lot done over the last few days. Jon would have the support of all the major superpowers in the Vale by the time that he returned from the meetings with the mountain clans.

Of course, very few of them would actually be loyal to him but they would fight for him. The Royces would march with the end goal of crowning Sansa. Lord Redfort would march so Mya Stone could become Mya Baratheon and the Redforts could have a claim to the Stormlands. Lady Waynwood would march to have her debts repaid. Baelish had gotten Lord Templeton to fight for Jon and later her on his own although he hadn't opted to share his method with her. The only Lord they had left to meet with that they needed the support of was Lord Gilwood Hunter. The rest of them would fall into place with all the superpowers going their way as the sheep followed the strong.

Sansa was torn in two by the plot Baelish was weaving. She had always wanted to be Queen, as a child all the way up until her father died. Even then, she had dreamed of some prince or knight coming to save her from him and marrying them like in the fairy tales. She had convinced herself she no longer wanted that, but to be her own person, strong and independent after the purple wedding. Now she had a chance at all of her childhood dreams and it was harder for her to pass it up then she would like to admit.

She could be Queen. She could be the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. No one could ever have power over her again. She would truly be free for the first time since she left Winterfell. All she had to do in order to get everything she desired was betray Jon. All she had to do was let Lord Baelish not be punished for selling her to Ramsay. She dreamed of Baelish's death all the time. She had clung to her hatred of him whole with Ramsay and cursed his name constantly. She couldn't have it all. She either betrayed Jon and became Queen with Baelish by her side, or she stuck with Jon and was content with being Hand of the King with Baelish hopefully dying eventually. Either way, she had to give up on one of her dreams. The question was which one.

There was more to it than just betraying Jon. If it was just Jon she might have done it but it wasn't. Her father had lived a lie in order to protect Jon and she was considering killing him. What she was doing wasn't honorable- considering doing that is, she wouldn't actually do it- probably.

Robb had named Jon as his heir and she would be betraying him by claiming the throne for herself. Arya after what had happened to her had allegedly been saved by Daenerys, and Jon had always been her favorite sibling; she too would consider it a betrayal if she even knew that Sansa was considering such an action. Rickon owed his life to Jon, without him he would be dead. This shouldn't be a hard decision to make, she would be betraying who she was if she overthrew Jon. Yet, it was a hard one due to her ambition and the fact that Jon and his wife to be would not make good rulers and might be mad already.

Jon was showing signs of going the Mad King's way already, wasn't he? His paranoia was extreme and then some. Paranoia that had only increased after he had murdered all those innocent men alongside the Bolton's at Last Hearth. Sansa understood his need for caution but his not trusting anyone to the extent he did was overkill. The Mad King's madness had started with his belief that everyone was scheming against him as Jon did. Sure, Jon had a justifiable reason having been murdered by men he trusted but it was a serious red flag.

Jon also had quite the affinity for fire. He had enjoyed watching men burn alive and cloaked himself in it regularly even if that had been in part due to her influence. Was Lady Waynwood right? It might be justice now but would that change? _He had the same look on his face while his dragon was ravaging their army as the Mad King did when he killed your Grandfather._ Brienne had told her Ser Jamie had said that. She had argued it was what they deserved but was it really? Was Jon truly as mad as Aerys? Or was he at least trending in that direction?

Daenerys Targaryen was obviously much worse in spite of what Jon claimed. She had crucified 163 men when she took Meereen. Sure, they might have been slavers but she showed no mercy and a high tolerance for cruelty. She had completely destroyed the economy of Slavers Bay in her sacking of Astapor and Yunkai and the breaking of chains on the slaves there. Ending Slavery was good and Sansa wouldn't hold that against her but she had destroyed so many innocent lives by doing so. She consorted with men like Daario Naharis, rapists, and pedophiles. What did that say about her? She didn't even just consort with Daario according to Baelish, she slept with the monster regularly. She was a whore and Jon wanted her as his queen.

She rode with the Dothraki, a raider society who took what they wanted and didn't abide by the law. There was very little chance that she would obey the law as Queen. Jon spoke of wanting to break the wheel, but his wife would stand in the way of that. If Jon's judgment was so suspect when it came to her why was he able to judge an entire Kingdom? Or the entire world for that matter?

Jon had already revealed to her that he planned on World Domination in the not so distant future. They planned on conquering all the known world in the name of making it a better place. They weren't going to be content with just ruling Westeros in their lust for power. How many Westerosi would end up neglected due to Jon and his Queen's absence? Would the Kingdom fall into ruin without a monarch to rule over them? How many Westerosi would Jon and his Queen send to their deaths to fight in a foreign war that Jon felt the need to insert himself in?

Perhaps it was truly for the best that Jon never becomes King. She almost wondered if she was being selfish and not selfless by not usurping Jon. She might have to betray her entire family by betraying Jon but how many lives would be better off if he wasn't King but she was instead Queen. She would still end arranged marriages and give women a place in the line of succession but she would do it better. She wouldn't destroy people's lives in the process. She would be content with just Westeros and wouldn't try to conquer the entire world like Jon.

She was startled out of her internal dilemma by an incessant pounding on the door. Sansa smiled having expected this visit to come soon and stood to open the door. She pulled the door open and was immediately crushed into a bone-crushing hug.

"Thank you so much!" Mya Stone squealed as she squeezed her tight enough that Sansa was having some trouble breathing. She had clearly inherited her father's strength in spite of her petite frame.

"Can't breathe," Sansa gasped out.

Mya jumped away from her as if her very presence was poison. "I'm so sorry, Lady Sansa, in my excitement I failed to show proper etiquette. I ask for your forgiveness "

Sansa waved off her apology and smiled sweetly. "There is nothing to forgive, you're allowed to hug your friends." She paused to chuckle. "Although maybe not quite so tightly next time,"

"You're too kind to me, Alayne. Thank you so much," She said gratefully with a small bow.

Sansa smiled once more playing the part of a caring friend. She did consider Mya a friend but they were not as close as she would have Mya believe and she wouldn't normally be so kind to anyone, even a friend if it didn't have a purpose. "Why don't you come inside for a bit Mya? I am curious to learn what you were thanking me for."

She blushed. "If you are sure, then I would love to."

Sansa said nothing but simply stepped out of her way giving Mya entrance to the room. She stepped inside timidly and stood in the middle of the room looking around it in a daze as Sansa shut the door behind her and slid the lock back into place. She didn't want anyone disturbing them right now.

"Take a seat, Mya," Sansa said kindly as she walked over towards her. "There is no need to stand around, please make yourself at home."

Mya did as bidded and took a seat on the plush sofa. "Would you like some lemonade? I had a fresh pitcher brought up a bit ago and I'm afraid I'll never finish it on my own."

Mya stared at her in shock. "Yes please." Sansa smiled and poured them both a glass which she set down on the small table in front of the couch before grabbing an armchair for herself. She was well aware of what was going on in Mya's mind, this had always been her intention. She had never been shown such kindness by anyone as just a bastard. For someone of Sansa's station to treat her as an equal was awe-inspiring for her and made Mya fiercely loyal to her and admittedly to a lesser extent Jon but they weren't close like Mya thought she and Sansa were.

"Why are you doing all of this for me?" Mya asked as she held the glass close to her mouth but did not drink it. "I'm just a no-name bastard girl."

That was the key to all of this, wasn't it? She was not so no name bastard in spite of what she believed. Mya Stone would become Mya Baratheon, the rightful Lady of Storms End and Lady Paramount of the entire Stormlands. Her kindness to Mya wasn't in spite of her bastard status. She wouldn't be this kind to her if that was the case. She might have grown up and realized bastards weren't monster's like her mother had said but that didn't mean she liked them. They were still a symbol of infidelity and dishonor. They were normal people with real wants and emotions but they were still beneath her in stature. She was kind to Mya because her kindness won her Mya's loyalty. She was kind to her so she would have the loyalty of the Stormlands not just some bastard girl.

"You're not just some bastard Mya, you are my friend. You were my friend even when I was just some bastard. I know that wouldn't have changed if our fortunes were reversed so why should it change here?" Sansa said kindly and placed one hand on Mya's knee. She finally took a sip of the lemonade she had offered her. It was hesitant but she did drink and accepted Sansa's reasoning.

Mya looked away from her for a moment and tried to subtly wipe away her tears. She sniffled then turned back to Sansa. "I must thank you, Alayne. How did you get him to change his mind? Why is he so willing to let me marry Mychel now? Why would you do that for me…"

Sansa pursed her lips. "I told you, you're my friend, anything I could do to make you happy I would." She sighed somewhat over dramatically. "I made Lord Horton see reason and explained how horrible arranged marriages are. I told him of how I was a slave to Ramsay and lost my temper when I said that if he were to sentence his son to that then it was he who was a satanic bastard. I convinced him that Jon's rule was for the best and he surprisingly listened. He's submitted himself to _my_ rule that arranged marriages are outlawed when he chose to support Jon. I was as shocked as you were when he agreed. I expected him to curse my name and refuse me but I had to try and for some strange reason, he listened," Sansa lied.

She knew that Lord Horton wouldn't reveal the real reason he was so accepting of her wanting to retain a relationship with his son and her so he could exercise some control over the Stormlands. There was also the risk of Jon hearing of it from him before Sansa had convinced him. There was little chance of Mya discovering otherwise unless Sansa told her and it was better that Mya thinks she acted out of friendship instead of for politics. Her naivety was useful and Sansa would be a fool not to exploit it.

Mya beamed. "I truly can't thank you enough for this."

Sansa giggled. "I believe you've already thanked me too much. You only needed to say it once not four times. Two is the limit on thanks you're allowed to offer well remaining proper," Sansa said in a posh voice causing Mya to devolve into a fit of giggles.

Once she had regained her bearing Mya tentatively reached out and squeezed her hand. "Seriously, Alayne, thank you. There must be something I can do to repay you for this," She said quietly.

There was something that Sansa wanted her to do to repay her but she would never mention that aloud so she just smiled. "Your friendship is all the payment I need. Well, that and an invitation to your wedding since I am the one who arranged it."

That offer, of course, had the side benefit of delaying the wedding of her and Mychel until after she and Jon returned with Daenerys to once again try and this time succeeded in collecting the fealty of the Lords of the Vale. It gave Lord Horton the ability to delay their wedding without suspicion until after Mya was legitimized and he had pledged support to Jon to make sure that neither party regened on the deal. She did want to attend Mya's wedding though, it wasn't just politics.

Mya smiled. "Of course, I'll invite you, it's you who we owe our happiness towards."

Sansa smiled. Everything had fallen into place perfectly. If she chose to betray Jon she would have the backing of the Vale, and the Stormlands as long as Jon took the throne first and had enforced Mya as Lady of the Storms End. As long as Jon died before her coup, she would have the North's support as well as House Tully due to her blood as they would easily choose her over whoever Daenerys named as her heir or some Velaryon with a dash of Targaryen blood. If she chose to betray Jon, her kingdom was mostly secure already. She just had to decide before then if she would go through with it. She had the time to watch Jon and his bride and judge if they would be the great rulers that Jon thought they would be or if they were just more mad Targaryens. If they were mad she would ascend to Queen in a mostly bloodless affair with all of her allies and she would be in complete control over herself for the first time ever.

* * *

"Lord Gilwood Hunter, I'm glad that you could join us. Please close the door behind you." Sansa greeted him in somewhat of a rush.

"And lock it," Baelish added. We don't want any eavesdroppers to overhear what we have to discuss.

Lord Gilwood did not do either of those things and instead stood his ground in the doorway. "What is the meaning of this?" His voice boomed. "Whatever plot you are hatching up on behalf of the bastard King, I want no part of."

"There is no plot, my Lord," Baelish spoke quietly as if he was afraid of being overheard. "We have information you will want to learn of…it pertains to your father," he whispered the last bit conspiratorily.

Lord Gilwood closed the door but did not lock it. That part hardly mattered they only said that because they knew that had they only demanded the one thing he would have refused. He wanted to think he retained at least partial control and they were all too willing to let him think he had it by giving him this small concession. Besides, what were the odds that someone would walk in on them without knocking first?

"If you are accusing me of killing my father then you are a fool to believe such rumors Baelish." Lord Gilwood said harshly. "I had no part in his death. He was an elderly and cripple man, death was near for him. I was already in position to inherit my House. Why would I jeopardize that to gain power a small bit sooner? He died of old age and from his gout, that is all there is to it."

"We're not accusing you of killing your father but he was murdered," Sansa said gently. "We're trying to avoid you suffering the same fate as him."

Lord Gilwood took a seat across from them. "How can you know that? Do you know who killed him? Do you have proof?" He demanded with some desperation.

"It was your youngest brother, Ser Harlan who murdered him dishonorably by suffocating him with his own pillow as he slept," Baelish replied.

"How do you know that? Why should I believe you?" Lord Gilwood asked.

Lord Baelish chuckled. "A drunk man has very few secrets, one in the throes of pleasure even less. A drunk man in the throes of pleasure has no secrets. I am a brothel owner, a flesh peddler and your brother is a regular at one of my fine establishments as are you lately. I'm sorry to hear that Lady Miranda hasn't been able to satisfy you lately. I am glad that my whore Nysara has been able to satisfy you in her place. Although I will admit I was quite surprised when I was told you spiked your youngest daughters ale with moon tea after she got pregnant with the steward William's child. To unknowingly-"

Sansa couldn't repress her flinch. This was a sensitive issue for her, although Baelish didn't know that and if she had her way, he nor anyone else would ever know. Baelish was giving away secrets of value and his sources to convince Lord Gilwood of the truth in his accusations about his brother. The man was addicted to his whores and even knowing that they sold his secrets he would likely still go back to them. He just might forgo the alcohol that came free with any purchase of a night with his whores. Then again, Lord Gilwood was a very heavy drinker and Lord Baelish did not allow any beverages inside his establishment except for his own so he might drink knowing he was giving secrets away by doing so.

"Enough," Lord Gilwood snarled cutting off Lord Baelish's speech. His face was flushed red and his nose was practically glowing with how red it was. He was both angry and embarrassed. Two emotions that were easy to take advantage of, and ones that they would exploit with pleasure. Baelish smirked as he shut his mouth, and allowed Lord Gilwood to speak uninterrupted. "I believe you, you clearly have your whores spying on us. What I can not agree with is why my youngest brother would kill only my father. My father was nothing but kind to him, and both I and Eustace are standing in his way to ruling Longbow Hall. He is not such a fool to think that he could get away with killing us both as well so soon after my father and expect to be not thought guilty. Your whore is lying."

Baelish shook his head and signed overdramatically. "I'm afraid not, my Lord. Ser Harlan has a rather fascinating and clever plot. He is goading Ser Eustace into killing you to avenge your father who he believes you murdered for power. He would murder you in cold blood, be caught, and Ser Harlan would be forced to execute him for kinslaying. Ser Harlan would be forced to ascend to the position of Lord of Longbow Hall despite his reluctance as the last son of Eon Hunter."

Lord Gilwood was quiet for a moment. "Let's say that I do believe you. If I were to hypothetically believe that Ser Harlan murdered our father in cold blood, and for power. In that scenario how would I stop his plot? I can not execute him on the word of a whore without being branded a kinslayer and executed myself."

Sansa smiled and took over. "You can't execute him but someone else can. You'll submit yourself and your house to Jon's rule. As King, he can call your brother to trial for murdering the previous Lord in a miscarriage of justice. When his wife joins him here, we will return to collect your fealty once again.. She has Lord Varys in her company. The spider knows all things and word from the King's master of spies is more than a valid enough source. Even if it isn't the case, who will risk the wrath of dragons by questioning the validity of his information? That isn't a just cause to throw your life away."

Lord Gilwood Hunter swallowed nervously. "And what of my other brother? How will you stop Ser Eustance from avenging the younger brother and father he believes me to have killed."

"That is up to you, My Lord," Baelish interjected. "You could name him as castellan of Longbow Hall when you go to march with King Jon southwards. Or you could name him the commander of your armies, and remain here yourself. I care not what you do, just keep your distance and he can not kill you. It is your duty to stay alive, all King Jon needs is the fealty of the Hunters, he cares not which one he has. Be it your father's murderer, Ser Eustance, or yourself."

Jon might not care which Hunter he had the loyalty of, though she imagined that he would prefer it not to be Ser Harlan. That did not mean that she or Lord Baelish did not care who they had the fealty of. They knew that the lack of extended protection for him would mean that he would opt to send Ser Eustace off to war while he remained behind. While he was there, Sansa was intended to gain his trust over time and then lie to him and reveal that Varys had lied about knowing who murdered Lord Eon on the orders of King Jon and his Queen Daenerys. That they had executed Ser Harlan to gain the loyalty of Gilwood, not because he was truly guilty.

She was intended to reveal to him that Lord Gilwood had murdered Lord Eon and framed Ser Harlan for it. He would, of course, become disloyal to Jon and loyal to her for showing him the falsehood of Jon. He would likely murder Lord Gilwood as Ser Harlan had intended, and Sansa, not Jon would have the loyalty of the new Lord Hunter. Lord Gilwood would die for murdering his father even if he was not actually guilty, and Ser Eustace would take his place as Lord of Longbow Hall securing the last of the Vale's major superpowers to her own cause, and not that of Jon.

If she chose to betray Jon, she had at least the Vale backing her, and likely the Stormlands, House Tully and their vassals, as well as possibly the North depending on how mad Jon appeared in public until then. She might not even have to poison Jon in secret to steal the throne. She had a real chance of winning the war between her and the Targaryens if it came to one. She didn't think it would even if she chose to betray Jon. Which, of course, she had no intention of doing unless it became absolutely necessary. It wouldn't she knew Jon was good - err mostly good but it was always good to have contingencies in place. Just in case. She had no intention of following through on them, right?

* * *

**This chapter was a lot of fun and we get to see a lot of the more subtle behind the scenes manipulations taking place here. Baelish wanted Jon to fail so he stacked the deck in favor of that outcome. Everything was carefully orchestrated to turn the Vale against Jon. Even had Jon handled the meeting better or used Rhaegal as crowd control again, the dinner showed he was all bark and no bite when he didn't choose Robin. He had an impossible choice and regardless of what he chose in that moment, Baelish got his desired outcome in the end. Baelish had a month to prep the Lords to reject Jon who had only a day with them by comparison. They don't have to trust Baeilish to do what he wants.**

**In what should be chapter 31, we'll finally look at what's been happening behind the scenes at King's Landing in the wake of Jon's victory and Rhaegal's appearance to counteract his actions. The negative propaganda by the High Septon is not a coincidence nor is the positive propaganda for Tommen. The battle for the hearts of the people can not be done through their actions alone but by the word of people that the common man actually trusts. The head of the church is arguably the most powerful voice in that regard.**

**I want to be clear that the Vale didn't actually reject Jon because he was a bastard or Daenerys for being a woman in spite of what they claimed. They largely rejected him for the lack of benefit his world gave them. His plans didn't hurt them too much but it wasn't something they would fight a war for. The fact that they didn't fear retaliation made it easy to tear him down and the excuses they gave were primarily excuses and partially religious rhetoric. Had one powerful person spoke on his behalf early, others would have followed but the fact that no one had the courage or foolishness to stand in his support meant that the peer pressure went the other way and they had more to lose by supporting him than by being the only ones who didn't.**

**Lord Royce(s) do fall in line as they anticipating because of their loyalty to Ned Stark but not for the interfering Jon Snow who destroyed their marriage agreement but Ned Stark's eldest living child, Sansa. They crown her as Queen because they do want a Stark on the throne, just not Sansa Stark. Revealing the coup to Lord Royce(s) is only a small risk because realistically for any coup to take place even one that looks like a natural succession thing, you need to have some support and an army loyal exclusively to you. Their hatred for Jon that Baelish orchestrated makes them extremely unlikely to betray Sansa in favor of him so the risk is very minimal for Baelish here. Jon's experience with coups are largely small groups that single-handedly take action (to his knowledge) so he is under the impression that Baelish will act independently for the most part and not risk anything until Jon has the throne but he is misguided. The coups against both Jon and his predecessor as Lord Commander Jeor Mormont were half a dozen men acting out. The coup that saw the Lannisters on the throne and the death of his uncle was just the actions of Cersei Lannister. The Sons of the Harpy as far as Daenerys is aware are acting independently from any outside aid (In the show). He has yet to experience a coup of that grand scale Baelish's is orchestrating.**

**Lord Redfort was obviously angered about Jon's interference but once he realizes the potential benefit to him, he falls in line pretty easily. Sansa and Baelish don't know for certain that they can convince Jon to legitimize Mya but they have a pretty good idea that they can. Jon grew up a bastard and has a soft spot for them, one that's already been shown publically when he legitimized Larance Hornwood in favor of bequeathing the land to a possible ally. Jon has also shown Sansa that he has a soft spot for Mya and won't let her Baratheon blood stop him from treating her fairly. The fact that she makes it clear that it will be her who convinces a begrudging Jon will put his loyalty to her before Jon. People will be upset about her possibly inheriting instead of Gendry but firstly, Jon does not know Gendry exists and if he did would be under the impression that Stannis sacrificed him. Only Davos knows where Gendry is and Davos is not there. Secondly, even if he did know about Gendry, I am 99% sure Mya is older so by Jon's rules she has the better claim to Storms End. Her being Lady of Storms End also secures the Stormlands for Sansa if they wait until Tommen is dead for their coup. Mya will refuse to betray Sansa and try to claim the throne for herself like they would undoubtedly want, and when the options are between having a Stark Queen or the Targaryen one they would choose Stark. They won't immediately back Jon because having a Baratheon by name and not blood on the throne is better than having a Targaryen one with a Baratheon ruling Storms End but once Tommen is no longer an option, they too will theoretically fall in line behind Mya.**

**Lady Waynwood falls into line with Baelish through blackmail and controlling her debts in the books so the same holds true here. What he asks is a lot, but in the books he also asks for the heir to the Vale to marry a bastard and she agrees so this shouldn't be that much of a stretch. Lord Templeton he also secures the loyalty of in the books an again the same applies here although the how is never explained. I have a plan for that which will be revealed in time although if Winds of Winter ever comes out and reveals the reasoning I might shift there too.** **It's revealed in the books by Baelish that Ser Harlan murdered the previous Lord Hunter but his brothers blame Gilwood for it. Baelish expects him to be killed by one of his brothers, rather than letting it happen like it seems he will do in the books; here Baelish steps in and gains their loyalty by stopping it and revealing the plot.**

**I know people will hate Sansa for this chapter and even considering betraying Jon but you have to see things from her perspective. Sansa has always dreamed of being Queen and she has had it offered to her on a silver platter. More so, Sansa needs to be in control after what happened in the past few years. She had been controlled by the Lannisters, then Baelish, then Ramsay, and now in large part Jon who used that control to send her to Baelish. Her being a Queen would give her absolute control. That is hard for her to resist. You also have to remember that Sansa has been privileged her entire life. She doesn't understand the plight of the common folk from first hand experience in spite of what she thinks she understands having been Alayne for a time. She has had Brienne and Baelish whispering in her ear that Jon is mad. The actions of Daario only tips the scales further in that direction at least when it pertains to Daenerys. She grew up the son of Ned Stark where the world was largely black and white. She understands that shades of grey exist but even still she still sees the Lannisters and Boltons and even the Targaryens as evil and the Starks as good. She grew up believing the Wildlings were evil and Jon consorts with them and holds their council closer than just about anyone. It's easier for her to believe Jon mad then for her entire world view to shift. She is is in a position of power and power can corrupt. The whispers of Lady Waynwood comparing him to his father and grandfather are just more oil for the flames. She is torn in two and certainly tempted to believe what she is hearing and claim the thone for herself. Does that mean she will do so? No but she could and she will certainly consider it.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely certain when the next chapter will be out. For the first time, I don't have the next chapter already pre-written in advance. It's honestly hard to believe I was eight chapters ahead at one point and cranking out a chapter every other day for awhile. Life has become busier as we move into the fall season and I have less time to write. I also have ran into writers block as of late and just powering through it as I had before has been less effective. Chapter length has also increased which is more time spent on each chapter. I am not abandoning this by any means but as much as I wish otherwise, I will be moving to an inconsistent upload schedule.
> 
> My writing habits are awful in that if I get stuck on the next Jon chapter I'll just jump to the next chapter from a different character's POV for a while and work on that. Right now I have 11K words on chapter 30, 3K on chapter 31 and 2K on chapter 33. In theory, the order could change but some things have to happen chronologically. As such, uploads will be extremely inconsistent, it might be a month between some chapters and a week between others that I already have substantial work on. I'd love to promise one a month but that's maybe not possible so I won't. I can't assure you of when the next chapter is but it is coming. It will likely be Jon's POV as he meets with the mountain clans but it's possible that I end up finishing the Tommen one first in which case that one would go next.
> 
> Thank you all for your loving support so far, it really means a lot to me. When I first started writing this I envisioned it at 80K words max but it's grown more than I could possibly have imagined writing. This has been a journey and a lot more fun then I expected and as sappy as it sounds, I couldn't have done this without you all.


	30. Jon XI

Jon stormed out of the High Hall without a glance back at Sansa and Lord Baelish. He had given them everything they could ever want but they had still failed to do what Jon needed them for. It had been his masterstroke to secure three kingdoms as his own by naming Sansa as his hand. He had been so confident his plan would work when he made the move. Baelish and even her might plot his death but they would be forced to wait and in the meantime, they would rally men to his cause and give him armies.

Sansa was supposed to give him three Kingdoms but in the end, she gave him zero. He could have gotten the North on his own with his flowery speeches, and show of power and fear. They would have followed him out of their greed for power and pride in having a Northern King. The fact that he had vanquished the Boltons and would destroy the Freys probably could have won their loyalty. He would have gotten Edmure Tully to bend the knee simply on the virtue of being Robb's heir. That is what had made Edmure bow, not the position of Sansa, or because Edmure knew he was not mad. He had knelt to Jon because Robb had trusted him as his heir. That was all the proof the North and the Tullys needed to kneel to him. Sansa had no part in gaining their loyalty, that was all him. She might have helped design his plan of attack for the North and even the failed expedition to the Vale but she had not truly been needed as his hand to do that.

Her primary purpose was to get him the Knights of the Vale and she had failed in fulfilling her purpose that Jon pre-ordained her for. She had gotten him the fealty of Lord Baelish and the young Lord Arryn who infuriated him so and he was now stuck with as his squire. She had gotten him, five-thousand men. That might not be a completely insignificant fighting force but it was not worth the position of Hand of the King. He would have gone with Davos before her if he had known that was all she brought to the table.

She had overestimated the reach of Lord Baelish's influence and as a result, Jon had as well. She had underestimated the stubbornness and boldness of the Vale Lords and as such he had too. They did not swear fealty to him just because Baelish and Robyn Arryn did. They were stubborn in their beliefs and would not bend even to what they believed to be a toothless dragon due to Jon's attempt to project a friendly sane demeanor. He should have just promised fire and blood. Perhaps, he still could. He would have the fealty of the Vale whether by love or by force. He needed their armies and he would take them by force after the mandatory two weeks of safe conduct after any treatise had passed.

Jon knew he had made mistakes as well, it wasn't all on Sansa or even Baelish's incompetence. He had grown arrogant and complacent after how easily he had gotten the North's fealty and that of Lord Edmure. He had gone in expecting the Vale to bow to him just as easily. He had over-estimated his own charisma. He had Rhaegal there to enforce what he said with fear when he gained the fealty of the North at the Burning of the Last Hearth, and again when he got Edmure and all the river lords present to kneel. Even when he had called all the Lords of the North and been crowned as King of the Seven Kingdoms, he had still had Rhaegal flying overhead to deflate the crowd when they had gotten too rambunctious. Yet, he had clearly wrongly presumed it was his words that won them over. He had sent Rhaegal off to go fly around the area, and stretch after being shackled and saddled for so long, He had earned the break. In the future, Jon would have to arrive early so he could have Rhaegal present for the meeting and give him a rest after the long flight dragging his sister around.

That was far from his only mistake but it was probably the biggest one. He had heard only good things about the knights of the Vale growing up. His uncle had spoken of Jon Arryn's honor in adoration. He had told them tales of growing up alongside the usurper under the careful eye of Jon Arryn. His uncle had made the Knights of the Vale sound just like the North but almost better in a sense. He knew that they mostly kept the New gods and didn't consider themselves Northerners but his uncle had called them Northerners in the heart. His experience with the occasional Vale men at the watch had always been positive for the most part. They believed him when he spoke of dead men rising again, and the real threat. They hadn't been the ones who plotted his death. Everything he had seen had confirmed they were like his uncle had claimed.

He should have dug deeper. He should have actually done his homework on the Lords of the Vale instead of just the mountain clans. He should have asked Sansa how to handle each Lord and what made them tick, she had lived among them for many moons after all. He should have trusted Maester Wolkan enough to get an educated opinion on how to deal with them. How to not offend them or their religion. He would learn from his mistakes and prepare better for the Riverlords even if he had only a short time until then. He would prepare to deal with the High Sparrow's foul rumors and prove them false.

That was another major mistake, possibly his biggest one. He had vastly underestimated the influence of the High Septon and the church. He had expected them to be a non-factor that he would force to kneel to him. They would change or be trampled in the wake of the wheel breaking. He had expected that the men of the south would see the High Sparrow for the mad man he was, and not worry about defying him and their gods. He had underestimated how religion leeched into their lives and dominated their actions. He had misjudged their will and the power they allowed others to have over them. He had thought they were independent souls and not just sheep. He should have known that not everyone could be a dragon and carve their own path in life.

Oddly enough, it was his death at the hands of his so-called brothers that had caused him to think that. He had expected them to follow his rule and respect his decisions just because he was Lord Commander. They had not done that and his folly in believing them incapable of disrespecting his authority had cost him his life. He had been determined not to forget people had a will of their own ever again. He was wrong to think every man had a will of their own, in spite, of the men killing him at Castle Black, they hadn't been doing it on independent thought. They had been listening to what they had been taught their entire lives and bowing to the wheel, their true master who had held even greater authority than him.

Everything he wanted to do for the most part would counteract the rule of the church. His vows in his coronation had not helped him there as he had said he would take power from the church if they did not follow his laws even before their gods. The Lords of the Vale were a pious bunch who let the church do their thinking for them. As long as the New Gods opposed his rule, they would all refuse to bow evidentally. After all, he was just a bastard born of rape. The New Gods considered him an abomination who should not exist. Just as they considered all bastards and Jon would not allow that opinion to persist in his Kingdom. Bastards were normal people just like trueborn sons. They were not cursed or evil, and people had to see that fact.

As loathe as Jon was to admit it, Baelish's suggestion to get a Septon of his own was an exceptional idea. With how the southerners blindly followed their gods, it was a good idea to have a respected follower of the seven as his own herald to counteract the propaganda against him by the High Sparrow. The part of him that was still the bastard son of Eddard Stark rebelled at the idea of lying and using a man's religion against him but he had to do whatever it took to ensure the continued survival of life itself. He had to ensure the betterment of all life when the wheel broke and he would use any means, no matter how dishonorable they were.

The only question is how even Baelish's corruptible Septon who was well respected would react to his more radical ideas. Was this Septon a complete imposter? As far as he was aware, the faith of the seven forbid most of what Jon wanted to change. How would he sell people on it if it defied what they believed? At what point did the Septon lose his repute for speaking in Jon's favor as he tore apart their religion? Those were real questions that Jon was forced to ask himself, and ones that he did not have an answer for. He was not a follower of the New Gods, as convenient as that might be right now. He had made an effort to learn the bare minimum of their customs but he had left it at that. Jon wasn't certain he believed in gods himself, be it the old or the new- or heck even the Lord of the Light but if he did believe in any it certainly wasn't the cruel, racist, sexist, and prejudiced New Gods.

The faith of the seven had done nothing but oppose him. Lady Tully had hated him because her precious New Gods told her to, they had told her that he was an abomination and not to be trusted. If she hadn't had her Gods would he have grown up a true sibling to his cousins? Would he have been made to take the black? Here again at the Vale, the New Gods had defied him. The Vale Lord's foolish faith in their mythical gods had stopped Jon from gaining their fealty. They had clung true to their stupid and foolish religion, and that had cost him twenty-thousand swords to fight for his cause. Had the Seven been responsible for his death to? Had they not been why his so called brothers have so stuck in their beliefs that the Wildlings were savages they couldn't trust? The Faith of the Seven created a system of judgment and a hierarchy of importance that held no ground in the real world. The Seven bred racism and corruption in their society. The Seven made him out as the enemy for wanting to fix the wrongs of their forefathers, for wanting to make the world, the fair and equal place it was always meant to be. The Seven was in a lot of ways, the wheel that they wanted to break.

Perhaps the faith was always going to be his enemies and it would be better to render the Sept of Baelor ashes and claim the Iron Throne by fire and blood. He could rule exclusively through fear and force men to their knees as the world changed all around them. It would be all too easy to hop on Rhaegals back and fly towards Kings Landing with the intent of rendering it into ashes and sitting the Iron Throne as King of the Seven Kingdoms. His Daenerys would arrive to him having already won and would sit by his side as his Queen until their children inherited their throne. It was a beautiful dream but not a reality. The Others were unfortunately quite real and could not be ignored. He had to stay the course and play the long game.

He couldn't actually burn the Sept of Baelor to ashes, as much as he might want to. It would undermine everything he hoped to accomplish. The walls of the Red Keep and all of Kings Landing was lined with ballistae in case dragons ever returned. They had been built during the dance when Aegon II Targaryen had feared an attack on the city by Rhaenyra Targaryen. Jon was certain that the moment the news of him having Rhaegal, and possibly even when it was just rumors from Essos that were believed to be false; they had the ballistae armed day and night in preparation for a possible, and what they might believe to be likely attack. Rhaegal and he could probably dodge all the bolts and survive the siege on Kings Landing but there was a small chance that they would not. If Jon or Rhaegal died, not only would at least one of them be dead and their other half wrought with grief. Their death would perhaps mean the entire world dies with them. Rhaegal or any of their dragon's death might mean the death of life itself. The dragons were their greatest weapon in the war against the Others as creatures of fire who could destroy thousands of wights in seconds. Losing one would be a death worse than that of a thousand men just on the loss of firepower alone.

That was hardly the point, however. The Great Other could raise bears and wolves from the grave as wights, why would the same not hold true for a dragon? Dragon bones were nearly if not actually impossible to destroy. They did not burn at all through normal means, not did they break easily. Unlike any men who died they would not be able to destroy Rhaegal or Drogon and Visersion's corpses if they fell. If they were brought back could they even be killed again? Perhaps Valyrian steel would do the trick but their bones were as hard as steel, killing a dragon wight would not be easy even with ballistae. They would likely need Valyrian Steel ballista bolts to kill them and that was not something they could easily come by. Dragonglass was likely too brittle to pierce dragon bone, it hardly even held up against regular wights.

There was also the fact that he knew he couldn't rule exclusively by fear or deceit. He needed the love of the people, he needed their support in the breaking of the wheel or they would rise up against him later down the road. He had learned that from his death at the hands of his brothers of the Night's Watch. If he wanted the wheel to stay broken than he would need their support or else it would last only this one generation. He had to play politics and sully his honor to be King and fix the injustice that plagues the world.

Jon stepped outside into the cold icy wind of the mountains and strode to where Rhaegal was waiting with some urgency. Rhaegal had sensed his distress and need to get away and come for him. Rhaegal was truly the best friend he could ever ask for. He would never abandon Jon or plot against him because in a way he was him. He hauled the saddle out and sat in the snow beneath Rhaegal as he worked on securing the saddle to the dragon.

He was glad to be done with the bothersome and close-minded new gods for the time being. The mountain clans were easier Jon knew from his studies of their behavior. They kept the old gods, or at least some of them did. The important element was that none of them kept the New Gods and listened to the commands of their toxic High Sparrow. One of the clans, the Burning Men even worshipped a Targaryen who had visited them once and been unburnt. He would undoubtedly have no trouble getting their support.

Sansa expected Jon to fail in his goals and not get any of the mountain clans but she had also expected them to get the Vale from Baelish so her judgment was far from infallible. Jon knew how to deal with people like the mountain clans, they were just like the wildlings, and in some ways what Jon knew of his Daenerys's Dothraki. They might be considered undisciplined savages by most men but they were humans who could be persuaded to fight and Jon would value their men equally to all other men. A little bit of kindness went a long way.

Still, he did wonder about how much of what he had read was accurate. Some of the descriptions of the clans he had read on seemed completely unbelievable and embellished by the authors of the tomes. He had seen some manuscripts claim that the Howlers slept with their wolves. Surely, that had to be a false rumor, right? No one could be that deprived, nor could anyone actually convince a dog to mate with them. The idea was ludicrous. Jon had been inside Ghost and even Rhaegal enough to know that animals held no sexual attraction towards humans.

He would work on the assumption that the gist of what he learned was true even if not the particulars. The Black Ears cared about being able to practice their religion. The Burned Men worshiped Dragons and the unburnt Targaryens. The Painted Dogs didn't believe in magic. The Stone Crows blindly followed whoever was the most powerful and won in the ancient trial of ascension.

Jon was confident that he would be able to defeat their leader in single combat and as such gain their loyalty. He had the advantage of Valyrian Steel and a full set of armor which he knew they had no means of producing for themselves according to all of his readings. If it ever looked like he wouldn't win, well then it would be all too easy to jump in a fire and keep his opponent out of his reach as the heat performed better than any shield would. He would prefer to kill them honorably but he would be a fool to not use every advantage that he had at his disposal if necessary. He had no plans of dying again.

Jon had carefully charted his course before they had even departed for the Vale, he knew what course he wanted to take both based on location and approach. He would go for the Moon Brothers first, to their village in the side of the tall mountain, Giant's Lance. They were both the closest to the Eyrie and the highest up as fate would have it. Jon knew that the Moon Brothers worshiped the Old Gods and had rebelled against the Arryns when they were forced to take the New gods as their own. With their Weirewood trees uprooted, they instead believed the moon was the voice of the old gods.

Jon hoisted himself onto Rhaegal's back with a slight grunt and set to strapping himself in. He would head to them first and get the fealty of their a thousand men strong. Once he had theirs he would depart for the Painted Dogs who refused to believe in magic even when it was shoved in their faces. They had to understand the truth and the threat of the others. He would phrase things in a way that left the Others as the true enemy and the dark magic that they feared so much. They were the largest of the mountain clans so their support was the most pivotal to Jon's efforts of any of them. Jon had to have their support through whatever means were necessary.

From there, Jon would take the short journey to the Burned Men where he would get their worship and loyalty. Initially, Jon had planned on visiting the Sons of the Tree and the Sons of mist before heading to the Burned Men as the fire would be much more impressive at night but now his plans had been accelerated by twelve hours so he would have to shift the order around a bit. He would likely stop for the night after his visit with them and catch a few hours of shuteye. He presumed the clan who worshipped him and his dragon was likely to be the safest one to sleep among. He would still sleep curled up under Rhaegal's wing, of course, but they were the least likely to do something stupid and attack him or Rhaegal.

Jon fastened the last strap and leaned forward on Rhaegal back as he gripped at the ends of his dragon's spinal ridges.

"Sovegon!" He commanded.

Rhaegal let out a far too triumphant roar for the events of this evening and took to the skies with Jon as his back.

* * *

Jon flew overhead near the peak of the Giant's Lance scanning the snowy peaks for any sign of the village that the Moon Brothers occupied. Jon fished the maps of the area out of his gambeson that he had prepared just in case they got lost. The village was supposed to be on the crest of the mountain on the northwest side about ten miles down from the summit. He knew he wasn't reading the map wrong. Jon was confident that they were in the right place but the Moon Brothers were nowhere to be found. There was not even a campfire in sight to give him some semblance of light to look for them.

Perhaps they had some custom where at night they only used the light of the moon and Jon simply couldn't find them because of the dark of night. That had to be why they were not able to be found as he knew he was in the right spot. The darkness was simply obscuring his sight. Thankfully, Jon had a way around that particular handicap.

Jon refolded the maps and returned them into the inner pocket of his gambeson, making sure to button that particular pocket so nothing would fly away from him. He then slipped into the ever so comfortable skin of Rhaegal. Warging into Rhaegal was almost as natural as breathing for Jon. He couldn't describe how he became Rhaegal or what their connection was like to anyone. He just did it because it was meant to be. There was nothing complex about switching between their bodies. He didn't have to force his way in or try to control him. He hardly even had to think it to be in Rhaegal's skin.

Rhaegal's eyesight easily pierced the dark of the night and the world became clear to him once more even as he felt his rider go limp on his back. The trees went from vague blurs in the distance to a crystal clear work of art. He could see each snowflake clearly as they fell on each individual pine needle. He could see the butterflies flutter between bushes in perfect clarity. The birds that slept in the hollow nest of a tree. The world was so much more beautiful when he could see every minute detail. The darkness was no longer an obstacle nor were the limitations of his own eyes. If Jon could he would use Rhaegal's eyes forever but he had to be in his own body most the time. He was a kIng and had a responsibility to save the world. He wouldn't be able to be there for his sister after he had failed her or marry his Daenerys if he was just Rhaegal. He was glad he came back, for the most part but there were times he missed just being with an a part of Rhaegal. Their bond was no longer the same, it couldn't be when they were forced to spend so much time apart now.

There was no fire alight in his line of sight except for those shooting from his own maw. That did not mean the mountain was deserted though. There was a village where they were supposed to be, it was just not lit up. Still, Jon had found his targeted destination and knew where to land now. He did not know why they were plunged in such absolute darkness but they were and Jon would just have to bring the light to them.

_Fly straight for the village, land in front of the fountain,_ Jon told Rhaegal before reluctantly tearing himself out of the dragon's body and back into his own. The world was dark once more as Jon was now using his pathetic human eyes to scan the night sky.

Almost as soon as Jon was in his own skin, Rhaegal broke into a high-speed dive towards the ground. Jon gripped tighter at the ridges on Rhaegals back as they made their descent. The high-speed free fall would never fail to thrill Jon and he had to clamp down the urge to whoop with glee as they rapidly approached the ground. He knew it wouldn't be kingly and would ruin the intimidation if the Moon Brother's first encounter with him had him acting the part of an over-excitable child.

They flew closer to the ground, diving straight for it. They were only a few feet away from slamming headfirst into the cobblestone when Rhaegal pulled up and flared his wings allowing them to glide a few yards and slowly drift to a stop.

Jon stayed on Rhaegal's back for a long moment panting in exhaustion- or more so exhilaration at how close they had come to their own deaths had Rhaegal been unable to pull up in time. Jon had never doubted for a second that Rhaegal would, he trusted Rhaegal unconditionally and knew the dragon's capabilities but the rush of it all was exhilarating. The diving straight towards the ground was one thing that just didn't have the same thrill when he was Rhaegal and the one in complete control. As Rhaegal he always knew he could pull up. As Rhaegal's rider, he trusted Rhaegal instead of knew. It was a small difference but it made all the difference to Jon.

Once Jon had regained his bearings, he scanned his surroundings in an effort to find some hint of the Moon Brothers. There was no one in sight. They must all be sleeping, they had to be here. This is where the Complete Compendium of the Clansmen of the Vale said their village was located and this was clearly their village. Wooden houses lined the streets, this wasn't the wrong settlement he had found himself at. This was exactly how it was described in the books, and it was supposedly the only village for miles. This had to be it.

Jon undid the straps tethering himself to Rhaegal's back. It was time for them to wake up and meet their King. "Hīghagon syt nyke," Jon asked Rhaegal. He could have just as easily asked Rhaegal to roar in the common tongue- easier in fact but there was something whimsical about giving Rhaegal commands in Valyrian. Rhaegal happily did as asked and let out an earth-shaking roar.

Jon waited there, still seated atop Rhaegal with the crown of fire dancing on his brow, waiting for the Moon Brothers to greet them. No one came out to meet them. It was as if there was no one there. But there had to be someone here, perhaps it was simply their fear making them incapable of leaving their homes.

Jon heaved himself off of Rhaegals back and stood on somewhat shaky legs as his boots found uneven ground beneath his feet. He withdrew Longclaw from its sheathe and branded it in front of him, the scraping of the sword against the leather as he withdrew it caused a shrill screeching sound.

"Stay here, Rhaegal. If the clansmen turn out hostile I'll need you to keep me safe, and if neccesary to attack," Jon cautioned Rhaegal as he rubbed the scales of his neck.

Jon stepped away from the dragon and towards the nearest home with his sword brandished in front of him. He pounded on the door with his left fist. "Hello! Anyone home?" He asked. There was no response. "Is anyone in there!?" Jon shouted this time. Again there was no response.

Finally fed up Jon pounded the door with his fist once more. "You have thirty seconds to open that door before I force myself in!" Still there was no response to Jon's incessant pounding.

Either there was no one there or they were quietly waiting for his ambush. He didn't want to knock the door down, not only would it be incredibly rude if there was just some innocent who happened to be a really deep sleeper but it was a risk he didn't want to take for himself. Breaking down the door would leave him vulnerable to a well timed arrow or even thrust from a sword that could take his own life. He had no desire to die again from his own hubris.

Still, the likely outcome was that the place was unoccupied and he would be doing no harm to himself or anyone else by breaking down the door. He glanced around at the faint image of the wooden house. There were no windows but there was a chimney. Perhaps he should go down that way in order to avoid taking the obvious entrance and being vulnerable to an attack because of it. He could drop down the chute and take them from behind. It's not like he would be hurt by any hot coals in the hearth like most people would. On one hand it might leave him unable to retreat but if there were too many hostels for him to take, all he had to do was ask Rhaegal to burm the walls to ashes. He knew they wouldn't hold up to a dragons fire.

With his mind made up, Jon turned back towards Rhaegal and clambered onto his back without bothering to strap himself in, he'd only be on his back for a few seconds after all. "Drop me off at the roof, Rhaegal," Jon asked quietly. Rhaegal hefted his wings and for a brief moment they were in the air before Rhaegal landed on the roof.

The wood splintered beneath the weight and they went crashing through the roof. Rhaegal flapped his wings at the loss of his footing and Jon was jostled around on Rhaegal's back but thankfully he managed to keep his grip and remained on Rhaegal's back. After a moment of Rhaegal screeching in alarm and furiously flapping his wings to stay above the wreckage, they landed once more aside from the wreck.

Jon slipped inside Rhaegals skin to calm the dragon. _We're fine Rhaegal. The building was unstable but it can't harm us anymore. You need to calm down._ Once Jon was certain that Rhaegal was sufficiently calmed he slipped out of his skin and back into his own.

Jon pushed himself off of Rhaegal's back and back onto the snow. He kept his sword sheathed this time and cautiously advanced towards the wreckage. The house was in shambles. If there was anyone in the village, that ruckus was certain to have awoken them and gotten at least someone's attention. He had to face facts, his book was wrong. This place was not the home of the Brothers of the Moon.

He stepped on a wood fragment that had once been the wall of the house and felt it snap underfoot when he had barely put any pressure on it. Curious, Jon crouched down to inspect the wood, it was old and dry. He pressed a gloved hand to the wood and it crumbled under his touch. The wood was rotted and dried out beyond any use.

His book hadn't been wrong about where the Moon Brothers village was. The book was out of date. His Complete Compendium of the Clansmen of the Vale was written in 193 AC, over a hundred years ago. The Moon Borthers had clearly moved their village since then after abandoning this one for whatever reason.

He didn't know where the Moon Brothers had gone and there was no easy way for him to find that out in the short term future. He couldn't even be certain that his readings on the other clans were still accurate. Did the Burned Men stop worshiping Targaryens? Did the Painted Dogs believe in magic now? Were any of them still were they were supposed to be? His entire intricately planned tour of the mountain clans was just as much in shambles as the house he was standing in the wreckage of.

Everything he had done lately had been a wreck. His removing Rhaegal from Meereen had wrecked havoc and seen Arya raped. His plan to gain the Lords of the Vale to his cause has been a colossal failure and his only allies were due to the actions of others. He wasn't even going to get the Mountain Clans to fight for him if he couldn't find him. These days Jon was unable to see any of his plans come to fruition. He was a failure at being King so far, he was lost without his Daenerys who had managed to keep Meereen afloat by herself.

He wouldn't give up, he didn't have a choice on that matter- and he didn't want to either way but he was being crushed by his burden. He would still try to reach the other mountain clans but he could no longer count on any of their support- and for that matter, anyone aside from Edmure Tully in the Riverlands. No one's loyalty was guaranteed and he couldn't know where people would be. His mess in the Vale had shown him that much. He had to learn from these mistakes and not let his hubris fill him with overconfidence and cause him to misstep.

He walked back to Rhaegal with his head held down and his mood somewhat sour. He hopped on the dragons back and strapped himself in. With nary a sound, Rhaegal beat his wings and they were back in the skies and on their way to visit the Painted Dogs.

* * *

Jon was overjoyed when he saw the torchlight illuminating this village. It appeared that his book wasn't entirely wrong, it at least still knew where the Painted Dogs were located. That was a relief, perhaps this entire endeavor wasn't completely pointless after all. The painted dogs were a larger Mountain Clan nearing 3,000 members and having them fight for Jon would be most beneficial to his efforts to stop the Long Night and claim his throne.

"Time to make an entrance, Rhaegal," Jon said quietly to his dragon companion. "Let them hear of our coming and be prepared to greet us."

Rhaegal let out a cacophony of roars as they made their gradual descent to the encampment of the Painted Dogs. The sentry spotted them first and in an instant, there was panicked screaming and harsh barking that Jon's human ears couldn't decipher in the slightest. Jon was tempted to slip into Rhaegal's skin to hear them but he knew that wouldn't be wise. There were men watching him right now and going slack on a dragon's back would be a big red flag to anyone observing him and could give away his warging talent to anyone who knew what to look for.

The sentry was banging on a drum now as Jon continued to slowly lower himself down to them. There were other men filing outside now as the sentry continued to bang on the drums. Archers Jon noted dully as he saw some of them equipping themselves with bows and preparing to fire at the slightest sign of hostilities from Jon. He had no intention of starting any violence here. He needed to come in peace and convince them to side with him, to bend the knee without resorting to violence. Every dead man was one less on their side when the great war came.

"Fire!" A voice yelled out, a command that was echoed by multiple others screaming the same order. A barrage of arrows shot helplessly through the sky and most of them fell well short of Rhaegal. The ones that did manage to both reach and hit them deflected harmlessly off of his scales.

Rhaegal growled in annoyance and Jon could feel his rage bubbling under the surface at the puny dogs who had attacked a dragon. It was all too tempting to command Rhaegal to roast the worms and have vengeance on them for attacking him. But he could not allow himself to do so. He didn't come here to make enemies but to gain allies in his bid for his throne. He wouldn't slaughter them for a misunderstanding.

"I come in peace!" Jon shouted over the noise as they continued to lower themselves to the ground. "I have not come here to conquer but to be your ally!"

"Load the stones!" A voice shouted out leaving Jon more than a little confused.

"Fire!" A soldier shouted. Another volley of arrows descended on them. They struck harmlessly against Rhaegal's belly and clattered uselessly to the ground beneath them as Rhaegal's ire grew.

Rhaegal swerved sharply to his left without any warning and Jon rocked within the saddle. A large boulder flew overhead where they had just been only moments before.

Jon turned in the direction the projectile has come from and was met with a terrifying sight. A row of six trebuchets being loaded with more heavy stone boulders. Had their attack been successful Jon would have been crushed if hit and Rhaegal's bones could break from their force. They weren't quite scorpions or other projectile-based ballistae but the concept was the same. The intention was the same. They weren't going to hit a dragon but they had tried to kill him for coming to make peace with them. They weren't even supposed to have siege weapons but they apparently had them and knew to use them against dragons.

White-hot anger gripped Jon as he spurred Rhaegal to turn around and head for the aggressors of the savage attack on him. They fley low to the ground and straight at the catapults. As they neared the target, Jon snarled, "Dracarys!"

Rhaegal gleefully let his flames loose on their enemies and their dragon injuring trebuchets. He watched with glee as men sunk to their knees under Rhaegal's fire and their wooden siege weapons were engulfed in the all-powerful flames and burnt into ashes. Screams of pain from the burning men filled the skies as they died.

Another volley of arrows deflected harmlessly off of Rhaegal's impenetrable chest as landed in the ashes of the trebuchet's and amongst the burning men. Rhaegal landed on one of their legs and crushed them to fragments as his screams of agony grew even louder still. One man was crawling away from Rhaegal but the dragon's front paw lashed out and dragged him back towards him before his mouth was buried in the man's abdomen. They had chosen this. They had chosen to submit by fear when they had ignored his offer of diplomacy in favor of recklessly attacking him.

Men watched in some awe and terror as they learned just what messing with a dragon meant to their lives. Another volley of arrows pounded against Rhaegal's scales but they realized the futility in the endeavor when they once again failed to penetrate his skin.

Rhaegal let out a loud roar and every man fell silent as they realized they were at the mercy of Jon and Rhaegal. They were the ones who decided what happened here, if they lived or if they died. They could do nothing to stop him from burning their whole village into ashes if he wished to do so. Their lives were in his hands now. He wouldn't risk from dismounting from Rhaegal here but he would try to use the fear he had just wrought to create diplomacy.

"I did not come here to start a war," Jon said in greeting. "I came here to end one. I am not here to conquer you but to ally with you so that all of our lives might be better. You are the ones that chose to escalate this with violence when you fired on me and my dragon while we only came to discuss peace."

"I know that your tribe does not believe in magic but I'm afraid I must inform you that it is very much so real. Look at me here in front of you to see the proof of my words. I ride a dragon, a creature who is living magic. I wear a crown of fire on my head but I do not burn. As much as you might wish it to be the case, magic is a part of the world." He didn't chance removing his gambeson to show them that he had died. They had already tried to kill him and he had no desire to help them succeed in their goal.

"Not all magic is good like mine and that is why I come here before you today. I come because I need your help to defeat the darkest magic on the planet. The Others that have been spoken of in our mythos for centuries are real. I've seen them with my own eyes even. Worse even, they have an army of their own- one of at least two-hundred thousand men. Alone we can not hope to defeat them in combat. Every man must band together for they are coming for us and we will not win alone."

"There will be changes in the Seven Kingdoms under my and my wife's rule, a great many of them. No longer will you have to rely on raiding and thieving to survive but all your needs will be provided to you. Every man, woman, and child will be free to choose their own path in life."

"I have no plans to force you to change your customs and traditions. You will, as will everyone else will be free to choose what gods you do or not believe in, and what gods you choose to worship. I swear to you that the church of the New Gods will no longer have the authority to punish you for not keeping their gods."

"I know that change is hard, and that is not something I can make easy for you. I'm asking you to give up the way that you've survived for centuries. Raiding is dangerous and lacks honor but it's been a stable means of providing for yourself. Raiding has kept you alive. Trusting me to provide your needs for you requires you to trust me and the Lords of the Vale to keep the peace. That is hardly easy. That is not what you want."

"Unfortunately what we want is not what we can have. We have to work together to ensure all of our survival. This threat is too great for any man to face alone. The Lords of the North don't want to work with the Free Folk but they understand that they must. Lord Robyn Arryn doesn't want to ally with the men that killed his forefathers anymore then you want to ally with the ones who have oppressed you for generations. He too understands that he must."

"The world is changing and we must change with it or be swept away in the storm. It is time for the Mountain Clans to be one with the Seven Kingdoms. I am here to collect your fealty, not because I want to rule over you or control your lives but because I must ensure the safety of all my people and raiding is an obstruction of that. I need your help to claim the throne and unite all of Westeros under one banner before the Others come so that we might have a chance of survival."

"Swear everlasting fealty to me and Daenerys Targaryen and join us in the new world where every man and woman has a voice of their own. Join me in the new world, the better world where all men are equal and we no longer have to turn to barbaric methods to survive. Raiding and pillaging will no longer be neccesary once you bend the knee. Together, we will make the world a better place for all of us and for our children for the generations to come. All it takes is for you to choose to kneel." Jon shouted out to the onlooking crowd.

"And what if we don't?" An athletic balding man with harsh eyes and an arrow notched on his bow that was facing towards the ground shouted out from the middle of the crowd over the deafening silence. "What if we refuse to kneel to some foreign sorcerer who deigns to call himself a King because of his voodoo magic?" He asked once more. "What if we refuse to change and side with a lying sorcerer? What if we choose to fight against you?"

Jon frowned slightly. Had his book been wrong on this too? It had said that they don't believe in magic and that they had been divided into the Burned Men as well when they warred on if a dragon was magic or nature. Yet this man's defiance made it sound as if they knew Jon had magic and held no disbelief over it's existance. It sounded like they hated it instead. He had taken the wrong approach if that was the reality of the situation. He could have gone to them promising to purge the world of the Others and their evil magic, even if he had to use magic for now to defeat them, he could have made it seem to be a temporary measure.

"Then you will die, as is the punishment of all treason." Jon said coldly.

"No you will," The same man snarled, letting an arrow loose at Jon.

Jon hardly blinked at the attack as Rhaegal neck shifted in front of him to take the blow harmlessly against his tough scales. Jon couldn't stop himself from laughing when he spotted the mans face at the attack having failed. "Did you really think that would work?" Jon asked incredulously. "I am a Targaryen, I am the dr-blood of the dragon. I will not be felled from a simple arrow, and certainly not while I am seated on Rhaegal's back."

Rhaegal stalked forward to the defiant man who had dared to defy them at Jon's urging. Unlike what he had expected and what had happened with everyone else the crowd did not part for him- in fear of Rhaegal. Instead they clustered even closer together and stood defensively around the one who had defied him.

Rhaegal stomped his foot and bent forward so his open mouth was right in front of the crowd. He roared loudly and the men flinched back but still held their ground against him. Jon had to work to reign in his justified anger. He wanted them all dead for defying him so, he probably should kill them to show his lack of mercy. He was doing what was best for them even if they didn't believe it. They had to see reason, they had to kneel to him. The Masters had acted against Daenerys but she hadn't slaughtered them all for one man's sins. Only when they had acted against her did she execute them. He had to follow her example, only the man who acted against him would die.

"You would all throw your lives away to protect a fool? I admire your unity but you are not saving his life, just dooming your own." Jon warned. "Step aside and allow this man to fact justice for his treason or join him in death."

"No!" A rather busty dark-haired woman called out from directly in front of him. She had a jagged scar along her jawline that was striking. "We will not step aside and allow some sorcerer to tell us what to do. I will die before I ever submit to a cursed dragon. She lashed out with her spiked club at Rhaegal's forepaw.

Rhaegal's roared as he finally felt pain at the painted dogs attacks. The arrows had lacked the force to pierce his scales and had only been an annoyance, The full might of a heavy club swung with all the woman's might had the force needed to crush the scales and well it didn't wound Rhaegal, it did hurt. Rhaegal reflexively lashed out with his forepaw and crushed the gnat that had struck him.

His claws shred through her body like a hot knife through butter. The woman's chest was ripped open and she was dead in an instant, her blood pooling around her still form as he club fell uselessly to the ground.

The crowd thronged away from him a few paces, as the fear of the same happening to them struck them to their very core. Jon would hardly apologize for murdering someone who hurt Rhaegal. The fear he had regained through that act was useful too. "You do not have to wind up dead like her. This is not a battle that you can win. Throw down your arms and swear fealty to me and my Queen and you will not have to die. Only those who have taken up arms against me will be punished as she was."

No one so much as moved an inch. The tension was thick in the air as they stood their ground firm in the face of a dragon. His words seemed to only strengthen their resolve. "Perhaps you didn't hear us, you practitioner of the Dark Arts. We will never kneel to a dragon or a sorcerer. We would sooner die." A brash young man with lighter hair and a sword on his hip called out.

Jon ignored him. "You all have your own decision to make, he can not make it for you nor can I. Do you choose to kneel or do you choose to die? Anyone who chooses to kneel will not be harmed, you have my word on that." Jon promised somewhat desperately. There were children in that crowd. He didn't want to murder them but he couldn't pick and choose who he spared, he had to be fair and unbiased in all matters, didn't he?

No one moved a single inch, firm in their decision to court death rather than kneel to him. "Every woman must choose for themselves, your husband can not make this choice for you. Every child will make their own choice to kneel or die, it is not their parent's choice."

Their resolve did not crumble in the slightest. "I will not punish any child for obeying their parent's decision." Jon cried out somewhat desperately. They had to see that he was good, that they should kneel. He didn't want to murder thousands because they wouldn't kneel. Those would be a few thousand fewer men on his side when the Long Night came. Thousands of people would have their lives needed endlessly. He felt sick to his gut at the thought. "Every child under the age of ten and two will be spared regardless of what they choose. They are too young to make that decision separate from their parents." He knew that it sounded like he was going back on what he had just said but it was just a clarification. He wouldn't commit genocide against children.

"I want to die!" A young girl of maybe eight years cried out. "I will not kneel to the evil dragon man, I would rather die than be forced to live with him. It would be wrong to bow to the evil dragon man!" There were cheers of agreement with her declaration.

Even the littlest ones here were refusing to kneel to him, in spite, of the alternative being death. Jon was floored by that, fear had been enough for everyone else when he wielded it against them. The Night's Watch had knelt to the unburnt. The Lannisters had knelt to Rhaegal, the North as well. The Freys' bannerman had turned on their liege lord and even their own kin to save their lives in fear of Rhaegal. Jon knew that the Dothraki had knelt to Daenerys after the Khal's death because they had been in fear and worship to the unburnt mother of dragons. The Masters in Meereen had kind of submitted to her rules and allowed her to be Queen because of fear of her. The Sons of the Harpy had ceased their crimes because they feared Rhaegal. Fear was enough in every other circumstance but it wasn't here. He was amazed and in some awe at their courage and more so foolishness.

Fear was supposed to be his trump card after the burning of the Bolton's and the savagery and unnecessary power that Rhaegal had shown. The carnage had been enough then and Jon had expected it to remain enough for the rest of his campaign with only the occasional burning of a handful of men to reinforce the idea. Even if he occasionally desired to see the watch the world burn, he had never acted on those desires or planned too. He wouldn't embrace the monster inside of him, it was just a passing fancy. He didn't want to tear more lives apart than necessary. He knew his actions had consequences and his goal was to better lives not to make them worse.

They saw his interference for the betterment of them and the world at large as evil and wrong, blinded by their blatant hatred towards magic. It wasn't just that though. It was more than just magic but his magic they were indoctrinated to hate from birth. Their blatant hatred towards dragons and the unburnt. In hindsight, he should have expected this. The disagreement over the appearance of Rhaenyra Targaryen had caused the divide between them and the Burned Men. Jon had known they were at odds even still but he had chalked it up to wounded pride and a century old feud. All the men and women who had been present at the split of the clans were long past dead. He had naively thought that any hatred they had towards Targaryens had died with their ancestors.

He had been wrong, time had only fanned that hatred into a raging inferno. They seemed to grow up from birth hating dragons if the children's insistence about him being evil and the wrongness of kneeling was any indication. He had been destined to fail before he had ever arrived. The moment the watchman saw the dragon in the sky they had acted against him because they hated dragons, not out of fear or any misunderstanding but hatred. They had known to use the catapults against Rhaegal because they had prepared for this situation. Their entire lives were lived in hatred of Targaryens and dragons after their fateful encounter with Jon's ancestor that had shaken their way of life. Perhaps once it had been disbelief in magic but if that was the case, their first encounter with a Targaryen had changed that. They knew magic existed and hated it but more so him. Nothing he said could have changed this, his failure here was not his fault.

The women who had died for attacking Rhaegal hadn't caused them to fear him and submit because of that fear. She had been a martyr that only strengthened their resolve to not kneel even with their lives on the line. They feared him but fear would not cause them to betray who they were or appear as the weakest of them. The peer pressure of being the first to bow was just as effective of a deterrent as the threat of death. If they kneeled they would be at best banished from the Painted Dogs or more likely killed. Bowing appeared to have the same outcome to them as standing strong in their convictions.

"Do your worst dragonspawn, none of us will ever bow to you." The first man who had defied him and shot the arrow in an attempt to kill him snarled at him.

Jon closed his eyes and rubbed at the scales on Rhaegal's back. He had no choice, didn't he? He had told them they would die if they did not kneel. He had to keep his word right? His threats couldn't be seen as empty or else he would lose the fear aspect that had been so crucial in securing his reign. "Draca.."

The command died on his lips. He couldn't slaughter men and women by the thousandfold. He would be doing worse than even his grandfather had done in his madness. He would be genociding them all, men, women, and children alike because they refused to call him King. Killing then in cold blood would not be justice. He could not pretend that it was. He knew that his Daenerys would not see it as such. He knew the Lords would see it as a sign of madness. He couldn't even be certain that Sansa and the Northern Lords would stand with him after mass genocide. He was certain that he would lose any small chance he had of gaining the Vale and likely the Riverlands as well. Would his Daenerys still accept him? Heck, would the Wildlings call him King after that even with the threat of the Others lurking? Or would his actions be too repugnant for even them?

This was yet another no-win situation for Jon today. He wished he had never gotten up, that he had never checked on Daenerys, and that he had delayed the visit to the Vale. Nothing had gone his way today. This day had been riddled with mistakes on his end, and just horrible news. He had learned of Arya's rape today which was at least partially his fault. He had failed to gain the Vale and now he was forced to choose between being seen at toothless or being seen as mad. Neither one would help him to gain the throne.

Maybe he didn't have to. The Mountain Clans were isolated from the rest of the Vale, and their blatant hatred of magic and gods were unlikely to leave the Painted Dogs with any friends even amongst the other mountain clans. Would anyone learn that he had threatened to murder them if he let them live without bending the knee? Perhaps, he could just put an end to their raids without gaining their fealty. Even if the news of his empty threats here did spread, if both options hurt him equally should he not do the morally right thing and spare them? The thing that he would choose without hesitation if he didn't have to be a King?

"Fine." Jon said with a sigh. "I do not condone mass genocide, and have no desires to wipe your clan out for your moronic stubbornness. You will be allowed to continue your lives without publicly bending the knee but you will abide by my laws all the same. Your time raiding the Vale has come to an end. No more reaving and no more raping. Anyone who partakes in a raid you will voluntarily turn over to me or I will come again to get your fealty by force. I am showing you mercy here because you have not done anything other than wound my pride and stand by your beliefs. Raiding is a crime and one that you will be punished for. This is your only warning, abide by my terms or perish."

He didn't wait for a response before urging Rhaegal to take to the skies and leave these wretched people behind. He didn't want a response. He didn't want to hear them refuse his most generous offer. He didn't want to be forced to kill them there on their words alone. He knew men might suffer for his indecision here but if they broke the terms of his command, they would at least give him justification for the genocide. It wasn't something he wanted to do but he didn't have a choice in the matter if they pushed his hand. He meant what he had said, no more reaving, raping, or raiding. He would not tolerate it in any measure and sometimes that meant doing things he didn't want to for the good of the common man.

* * *

Jon wouldn't lie and say he wasn't apprehensive about this last meeting of the day. Every other one had gone so poorly today and he wasn't extremely optimistic that this one would be any better. In theory, this should be the easiest one as the Burned Men idolized the dragons and unburnt gods of theirs. In theory, their fealty should be a guarantee but the Royce's he had expected to be guaranteed to support him today and they hadn't.

If he failed to get the Burned Men then Jon would likely just give up on the Vale entirely for the time being. He wanted them on his side and for the raids to cease but if he wasn't able to secure their loyalty now then it would be pointless to visit with them and it would only hurt him in the long run. If he failed here he would just give up for now and make a better plan with hopefully more recent information, and the aid of those who had experience with the Valemen and the Mountain Clans.

They were nearing the spot where their camp was supposed to be now and Jon had a decision to make. Did he announce his presence like he had planned and did do with the Painted Dogs? That would mean if they like the Painted Dogs had countermeasures planned for the return of dragons then that would give them a chance to enact them. If they were prepared to fight him then he would be putting his and Rhaegal's life at risk when it could cost them everything. On the other hand, if he announced his presence it would not only be the courteous thing to do and stop them from fearing hostility but it would also inspire reverence. He could descend from the heavens before them all and have their fealty before he hit the ground. They worshipped the unburnt, it was very unlikely that they would attack him for being on dragonback like their unburnt goddess Rhaenyra. That was why they had split from the Painted Dogs. They worshipped Targaryens.

But did they? His sources had already been proven faulty twice before, who was to say they weren't wrong here again? He thought that it would be hard to screw up who the Burned Men were so terribly but Maester Arwyn had shown his accounts to be unreliable too much to rely on his word here. He couldn't risk Rhaegal for a few hundred men. He likely would be fine regardless of what he chose to do. The Burned Men were almost assured to be here. Almost wasn't a guarantee though so he would play things safe this time. The darkness would mask his presence until he was too close to stop.

Jon directed Rhaegal to silently descend with a simple thought while in his skin. Rhaegal was slightly put out by the silent part, it was against his nature to hide, he was a dragon. Jon agreed with the sentiment. He was proud of who he was and would normally want to gleefully announce himself but he had to be cautious here. He wasn't willing to die again because he trusted people to bow to his station. Not again.

There was a large bonfire erected in the center of the village that the Burned Men called their home. That was one thing the book had gotten right about them. They kept that fire burning in homage to their Goddess who had not been burnt. The fire supposedly had never gone out since they had split from the Painted Dogs. It was allegedly the same fire that had been set by Syrax when Rhaenyra had first visited them over a century ago. The very fire that haad guarded her back from the Painted Dogs. The book claimed that the Burned Men cut off body parts- often a nipple or finger when they came of age and sacrificed them to the fire of Syrax but Jon was skeptical of the veracity of that rumor. It seemed so very senseless and the book had been wrong many times before.

The watchman finally spotted the shadow of Rhaegal over the camp when they were only a few hundred feet from the ground and Jon was pleased when he fell to his knees before them. There was no cry for help or grabbing of weapons. The man just realized his place and sunk to his knees. It was a pleasant change from the stubborn Painted Dogs and the proud and corrupt lords of the Vale.

Jon landed beside the bonfire and Rhaegal finally let out the earth-shaking roar that he had been holding back. The effect was instantaneous as all the men and women still awake and outside fell to their knees where they stood. The rest of the people who had been asleep- the majority of them slowly filtered out of their homes as Rhaegal roared once more. Jon quietly undid the straps that bound himself to Rhaegal's back as he knew he would have to dismount soon and conflict looked unlikely at this point.

He watched as a dark-haired girl of about Jon's own age stepped outside and immediately fell on her face in worship. He watched as an elder man hobbled outside with the aid of a staff and shakily fell to his broken knees before him. A woman with hair that was kissed by fire stepped out with her young son of perhaps five namedays who had hair of the same color. The mother fell to her knees in an instant but the son remained standing until the mother yanked on his ear dragging the protesting child to his knees as well even as his eyes swelled with tears. All across the village men and women, young and old, fell to their knees in awe of the unburnt King that stood before them and the dragon he sat upon.

Jon smiled ferally. This was the kind of greeting he had expected from the Vale, the adoration that dragons like him deserved. He hadn't expected them to fall on their knees at the sight of him but he had expected there to be some willingness to bend and awe and fear of his dragon to subdue them. The Painted Dogs had been the opposite of that but this was what he deserved and had wanted.

His research finally had proven fruitful, he wasn't wrong on something because his sources had been. The Burned men really did seem to worship Targaryens and their dragons as Gods. That certainly made things easy for him. They had all knelt to him with hardly any prompting and no threats leveled against them. Jon's eyes narrowed as he looked off in the distance on the one man not kneeling, and advancing towards him with a blade at his hip.

The man was gruff and fearsome as he stalked towards Jon with barred steel. He was dressed in a cobbled together suit of mismatching armor. His helmet had long tusks coming out of the cheeks that guarded his face against any blade that looked to injure his exposed face. His breastplate bore the Lannister coat of arms in shining gold but the gauntlets and mail contrasted it made of the cheapest iron. His greaves were bronze and coated in blood and dirt stains and they carried the crest of House Templeton. He wore a black necklace of what appeared to be blackened bones. The entire ensemble was almost laughable to behold with how little matching there was. His eyes seemed to be mismatched in color under the firelight. One eye glowed green and the other was a deep shade of brown.

As he neared him Jon came to realize that his eyes were not mismatching at all, rather that he was missing an eye. The eye has seemingly been burned out of his skull with only a gasping crevice of burned flesh embedded in his skull remaining. Was that why he was hostile? Did he blame the Targaryens for his eye having been burnt out because of their culture? He was a young man but he cut a figure of intimidation and the Burned Men currently on their knees before Jon were dipping their heads to him as he walked past.

Were they knelt out of only fear and not love and adoration like he had hoped? Did they expect this gruff and physically imposing man to defeat Rhaegal and send him away so they could go back to their lives without the threat of a dragon flying overhead? They would be sorely disappointed then. He nor Rhaegal could be killed so easily.

Jon rubbed the side of Rhaegal's neck and prepared to give the command to burn this fool brave enough to stand but hesitated. The Painted Dogs had resisted him and him killing his attackers only had made them a martyr who is to say that this one eyed man wouldn't be the same. If he killed him here with his dragon did he lose all the Burned Men? He would kill him if he had to but perhaps it would be better to subdue him without killing him.

The one eyed man was only a dozen yards away from him and Rhaegal when he finally brandished his blade. Jon's own hand fell to Longclaw at his hip prepared to fight if need be.

The man did not charge at him with his blade or even get any closer, instead he did the most unexpected thing and turned the blade on himself. He held out an ungloved unprotected hand in front of him and brought the blade down on it.

The man screamed in pain but he hacked at his mangled wrist again. Then a third time in spite of his pain. A fourth swing severed the wrist from his hand. Only then did he collapse in pain and drop his blade to the floor.

The broken man who had willingly cut off his own hand crawled towards the pool of his own blod and picked up the hand that he had removed in the hand that had held his sword previously. He knelt in the pool of his blood holding his hand above his head as an offering and looked towards Jon. "Timett son of Timett, Red Hand of the Burned Men submits to The Unburnt Man."

Of all the things Jon had expected seeing the man approach him that had been the last of them. His book had been more right here then he had expected, they did seem to offer parts of their body to the first as sacrifices to the flames. Or in this case, to Jon himself and his dragon that stood here before them.

This was good news. Jon knew from his readings that the leaders of the Burned Men were called Red Hands and Jon had just gotten the clear loyalty and worship of one of the leaders of their tribe. That name had been more literal than he ever had thought. He wanted to reject their primitive needless sacrifice of their body parts to the fire but he also didn't want to risk losing them by trying to change their culture as he had lost the Knights of the Vale. He could tolerate the occasional sacrifice to him if it got them to stop their raids and fight on his behalf in the great war.

The declaration of Timett had caused a ripple of the other men kneeled before him. An elderly man wearing a similar black necklace to that of Timett stood up slowly and pulled out his own knife and began hacking at his wrist. A heavyset woman rose to her feet and swung her ax at her other arm.

Jon wanted to stop them but he was paralyzed for some reason. This was needless, he didn't care for having their hands and Rhaegal could do without them as a snack. Their hands hurt their ability to serve him not helped. Yet, there was a part of Jon that was jubilant to see them so willing to hack off their own hands as an offering to him. A part that he wanted to deny but he reveled in their worship and devotion.

"Briba, daughter of Larr, Red Hand of the Burned Men submits to the Unburnt Man." The woman said holding up her hand in offering from her knees.

"Mikken, son of Rikken, eldest Red Hand of the Burned Men submits to the Unburnt Man." The Elder Man said as he too held up his severed hand over his head as he knelt in his own blood.

Jon stared at them in part in awe but equally so in horror. His movements were almost mechanical as he approached Timett and took the offered hand in his gloved palm. He ignored the disgust he felt holding the severed hand in favor of not offending them. He collected all three hands that were offered to him before retreating to Rhaegal and giving them to him as a snack- he presumed that was what they wanted him to do with them.

"I thank you for your offerings, and appreciate you remaining loyal to me and my House even after all those years apart. I wish I came here with god tidings but I did not just come here to visit with my people or receive your worship."

"I came here because once again my family needs your help. Our throne has been stolen from us and our Kingdom given into the hands of usurpers. I need your help to reclaim it for me and my Queen. More than that, the tales of the First Men are true. The Others are real and are awake once more. They are marching on the wall now, and eventually, it will fall before them. The Long Night will come again and if we don't act together to stop it, it will never end this time."

"The Great Other has an army too numerous to count and unless we all band together we will lose to them. Our dragons can kill their army by the hundreds but even dragons can not defeat so many foes on their own. I will die and the Unburnt Kings and Queens will leave the world forever. There will be no more dragons if we can not defeat them. There will be no more burned men either, all of life will come to an end and only death will remain for all eternity. All life in the world will cease to exist. In the North, the Mountains, and the Vale, along with the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, the known and unknown world. All will fall before the Great Other and his army of undead soldiers."

"I, unfortunately, need more than just your help if we want to survive. I need more than just the Mountain Clans, I need all of the Vale. That means that I am telling you we have to make pace with the arrogant Vale Lords who stole your homes and drove you to the mountains. I am asking you to let your feuds die. I am asking you to accept that they have their own gods and while you don't have to worship them, you do have to respect them and let them hold their own beliefs. We can not afford to be at odds with our allies, and in spite of the past; the Vale Lords are out ally as is every living man, woman, child, and beast of burden. This is a war between the living and the dead, there are no other sides."

"The Lords of the Vale are stubborn fools who do not understand what is truly at stake. They will struggle to work with you, and will require certain things in return. The time of raiding the men and women of the Vale has come to an end. No longer will you conduct any raids on their villages or abduct their children. You will no plunder their lands or steal from them. Anyone conducting a raid from this day forth will be punished with the full force of my armies, and my dragon. Anyone who murders a Valeman without just cause will be executed for their crime. You might be my most loyal men but you are not the exception to the rules. Likewise, anyone who orders a clansmen without just cause will be put to death for their crime. You will abide by them as will everyone else."

"The world is changing and we must change with it or be swept away in the storm. It is time for the Mountain Clans to be one with the Seven Kingdoms underneath the rule of the unburnt. I am here to collect your fealty, not because I want to rule over you or control your lives but because I must ensure the safety of all my people and raiding is an obstruction of that. I need your help to claim the throne and unite all of Westeros under one banner before the Others come so that we might have a chance of survival."

"Swear everlasting fealty to me and Daenerys Targaryen and join us in the new world where every man and woman has a voice of their own. Join me in the new world, the better world where all men are equal and we no longer have to turn to barbaric methods to survive. Raiding and pillaging will no longer be necessary once you bend the knee. Together, we will make the world a better place for all of us and for all of our children for the generations to come. All it takes is for you to choose to kneel. I am asking you my most loyal to stand with me. I need my most loyal by my side if we are to win the war." Jon shouted out to the onlooking crowd. "So I ask you, will you fight for me?"

The crowd roared in reply as they thrust their weapons in the air as a battle cry.

* * *

It was nice to finally have had something go exactly his way. This whole trip wasn't completely pointless, he had just gotten another thousand men to stand with him at the very least and he was optimistic that the other Mountain Clans would go almost as smoothly. The Painted Dogs were the minority with no Gods of their own, not the majority even if they were the largest of the Mountain Clans. Most of the clans would not reject him for having magic or a dragon even if they did not worship him as the Burned Men had. Most of them even kept the Old Gods and would find it easy to believe that the Others were real. They were maybe a bit more primitive than the North or some of the wildlings but they were still reasonable people, unlike the Vale Lords. Sure their traditions might be odd, some of them a bit savage but like the Thenns, they were still people and wanted the same things as every man. They would kneel when they understood the urgency of the threat as had everyone who understood the stakes.

The Burned Men were an odd group but they weren't the complete savages his books had claimed them to be and he had thought when the Red Hands offered him their hands. They were respectful of the members of their village and as Timett, son of Timett had shown him around the village he had seen that. The Red Hand was respected by his people but he was equally respectful as them. Even while in the presence of Jon who he literally worshipped, they had stopped and taken the time to speak with the villagers and hear them out.

A small girl- of maybe six years had accosted them on the way to the temple they had given to Jon to stay in. She had shyly asked Timett, son of Timett why he had cut off his hand, a question Jon was grateful for her asking as he wanted to know the answer as well. He had laughed and patiently explained the history behind their name to the curious child.

When the nameless unburnt woman had arrived injured on the back of her dragon, at the camp of the Painted Dogs seeking aid lest she die, the first Red Hand had saved her life at the expense of his hand. He had fought the leader of their tribe and killed him but lost his hand in the battle. The soldiers rallied but they had been outnumbered. His ancestor would have died that day if that wasn't for the Red Hand who recognized magic as the gift it was and kneeled to the unburnt god that he and his ancestors are.

He protected the woman and her dragon with his life and had bought enough time for the unburnt to awaken from her lapses in consciousness and command her dragon to chase the magic hating Painted Dogs away from their home. She had thanked the first Red Hand for being willing to sacrifice his hand to protect her and had burnt his severed hand and worn his blackened finger bones around her neck.

The Red Hands offered Jon their hands to show they still held that same commitment to the Unburnt Gods. They offered their hand to Jon to show that they too were willing to sacrifice their hand in service to him. Perhaps it would have been better for Jon to take their hands and wear them as the first unburnt had but they hadn't seemed offended by his dragon snacking on them instead.

The girl had shrunk in on herself and nervously said she didn't want to lose her hand. Timett, son of Timett had chuckled and ruffled her hair before assuring her that only the Red Hands had sacrificed their hands and that they had chosen to do so, not were forced. Jon had been quick to echo the sentiment.

Another elderly man had been struggling with carrying the firewood into his home and Timett, son of Timett had stopped to help him carry it inside- even with only one heavily bandaged hand. He might have looked the part of a fearsome savage and he might be physically aggressive with some people but he was fiercely loyal to his own people and cared for them as much as any ruler, and more than most. Even in the presence of someone that he considered a God, he still put his people first. Even while he was no doubt in excruciating pain having only lost his hand hours before, he still focused on others before himself.

The journey to the temple- for a lack of a better term had taken much longer than Jon had expected it to with how often they had been derailed but Jon didn't mind even if it cut into his sleep time. It was refreshing to interact with normal people again, to help them out and take a step back from focusing on the great war. He was a King and a God to them but he didn't have to pretend to be something he wasn't with. He could help them without having to worry about ulterior motivations with them. He didn't have to deal with censored speech or fancy titles and stroking their egos. One man had flat out called Jon's gambeson ugly with a laugh after Jon had helped him out and had advised that he try wearing one with less frills. There was no one in all of the North who would dare say such a thing to him, and Jon doubted there was anyone in the other seven Kingdoms who would as well. The Free Folk might have but only some as they did still fear Jon. This random commoner hadn't feared Jon's retaliation at all.

Jon did not have the fear of the Burned Men at all. He had their love instead. He suspected they hadn't supported him and agreed to all his terms out of fear of the Others or fear of what Jon would do if they hadn't kneeled to him but out of love and worship of the Unburned Man. Jon had thought he needed fear to rule, he wanted their love but he would settle for fear since that was what he had thought he had needed and it was all he had the time to get. He would have love after he had claimed power.

The Burned Men challenged that conception. Possibly, his greatest and easiest individual victories had been born of love and not just fear. The Burned Men had eagerly submitted themselves to him despite him asking them to change their way of life in many ways due to the love they held towards his family. The Free Folk had in part been swayed by fear of the Great Other but equally so by the fact that Jon had died for them. They stayed with him after he had the North because they loved him despite what they might claim otherwise. They knew Jon had another army now and probably didn't need them but still they carried out his commands with minimal complaints. They were loyal to him out of more than just fear and it hadn't been bumbled diplomacy that got them to his side but him showing them who he was.

Jon had thought the North had bowed to him out of fear and greed primarily but was that even accurate? How much of that was out of the love they held toward Ned Stark? How much of it was out of the loyalty to the Starks? How much of it was their affection for him having avenged the Red Wedding? Fear hadn't been the only component at play there. Jon likely could have gotten their loyalty without the assistance of Rhaegal.

His Daenerys had the love of her Dothraki and as such their loyalty. They had loved her as the Khaleesi of their Khal and when they had seen her strength and that she was unburnt they had grown to love her as well. They didn't fear her baby dragons at the time, or the retaliation of her non-existent army. They had loved how strong she was. His Daenerys had gotten her Unsullied through treachery sure but they stayed with her even now that they were free because they loved her.

Jon had tried to gain the Painted Dogs support exclusively through fear and that had failed in the worst way imaginable. Jon had tried to get the Knights of the Vale on his side through diplomacy and had failed almost as badly. Perhaps fear and diplomacy needed some love and affection to work as a means of gaining allies.

The issue was that Jon had gotten their love because of a pre-existing connection. The North was tied to Ned Stark. The Burned Men were tied to his ancestors, possibly Rhaenyra Targaryen and it was their affection for her that won him their love. The Wildlings had been learned to love him while he was just the bastard Jon Snow. He had gotten their love through them and his actions that had benefitted them and not himself.

The issue was Jon didn't have the luxury of being able to pursue gaining his allies by love and not just fear or weak diplomatic inquiries. The Others could be past the wall within a handful of months. He didn't have the circumstances to create love quickly and he lacked the time to gain it the slower way as he had with the Wildlings. He had to move quickly and fear was the quickest option he had. Fear didn't take time to cultivate as love did. He might prefer having their love and it might even be strategically wiser but he didn't have that luxury. Time was the most important factor of his campaign, not effectiveness. He had to push on as planned, it didn't matter what he wanted. He couldn't have it. Stopping the Long Night had to be his first priority.

The temple for a lack of a better term that they had stationed Jon in was from the greatest accommodations he'd ever been presented with but it would more than service his needs for the night- or more so morning now with how long it had taken to get settled in. The temple was more of a shrine than anything dedicated to Jon- or more specifically his ancestor.

This was allegedly the same hut that they had gifted Rhaenyra with when she had first come to them. The temple was lavish having once belonged to the chosen leader of the Painted Dogs before Syrax had driven them off and given the territory to the burned men. The hut was missing a wall due to the damage that had been done to it centuries ago by with a battering ram or the tail of a dragon, judging by the scorched wood and claw marks on the walls he would guess the latter.

There was cold draft letting into the room through the curtains made from the finger bones of the Burned Men over the generations a proud Mikken, son of Rikken had told him. The room might be centuries old but it had been maintained over the years, the floor was spotless and the bed was well made. There was a freshly filled water basin in the corner for Jon's use and a fire warming the hearth even when the temple has been empty.

There were no servants to attend to Jon after Mikken, son of Rikken, and Timett, son of Timett had left him nor were there any before. He might be considered a god here and treated as special but that did not make him their master. The Burned Men did not have servants or masters. They had friends who did them favors and volunteers who chose to serve their fellows. It was a beautiful system, the same kind that Jon wanted to implement in his Seven Kingdoms when he had the throne. This was what a broken wheel could look like, and Jon now wanted that more than ever- even if he could not prioritize it right now.

As Jon prepped himself for a brief slumber before he left on the morrow he hesitated before climbing into bed. His hand came to rest on the sword at his hip and his fingers clenched around the familiar wolf pommel of Longclaw. This would be his first time sleeping without a locked door in front of him since his death. He was exposed out here to any aggressors who could come for him in the night. He was vulnerable and all it took was one well placed arrow through the curtains and he would never wake up. He wasn't safe, these people had it easier to murder him then even his so-called brothers at the wall.

Yet, for whatever reason Jon wasn't afraid. He was alone and vulnerable but he didn't fear the Burned Men attacking him while he slumbered. He could trust them to leave him alone and allow him to live his own life as he pleased. They loved him, and had no reason to seek his harm. They were his people and they were loyal to him and his house. He didn't have to fear them acting against him because fear brought more fear and made them act out from under his thumb. He had these mens love and affection. They were allied with him for love and not because of fear, they wouldn't be swayed from that or cause dissent because of it.

Jon sighed and unstrapped Longclaw from his belt. He didn't need it to sleep tonight, he would be perfectly safe here among his people. He set the Valyrian Steel sword down on the bedside table. His fingers moved up to his gambeson and undid the top button before stopping. Perhaps he should not remove that. He was already taking a risk by sleeping unarmed. His armor might not be the most comfortable thing but it was better to be safe than apologetic and dead.

Jon leaned back onto his bed and closed his eyes. His soul sought out the body of that bird he had occupied in Meereen while his human body went slack in the night as Jon left it behind as an empty shell to recover from the harrowing trials of the day. The bird's mind still felt foreign but it was becoming easier and easier for Jon to force himself into things other than Ghost or now Rhaegal with the practice.

Jon flicked his eyes open and saw what the raven saw. He was in the same room he had been in the previous night, the one that his sister in Meereen occupied. This time he was resting on the floor of the cage that his raven had hastily been shoved inside. Speaking of his sister she was alert right now and out of her bed. She carried a knife in her hand and was dancing around the room slashing at imaginary foes.

Arya was balancing on one foot before leaping in the air, spinning around, and slashing forward with her dagger. The second her feet hit the ground, she would hop back again and repeat the process, never losing ground to her unseen foes while continuously chipping away at them and theoretically avoiding getting hit herself although it was impossible to see how effective if it was without watching her actually fight a real person. The dagger in her hand was constantly twirling, it was mesmerizing and she had incredible control over the spinning blade. She would stop its rotation in an instant and dash forward, using the momentum of her blade to put extra force behind her strikes.

Arya's skill with a blade had clearly grown even after she had voluntarily relinquished Needle for a few coppers. Jon was immensely proud that she had seemingly become everything she had ever wanted even if he couldn't have been there for this as he wanted to have been.

Arya spun in the air once more, this time only doing a half turn and lunging in Jon's direction. Jon cawed at her in what he meant to be applause of sorts.

She stopped her movement instantly and visibly deflated as she sighed with a slight frown. "Oh, you're here."

Jon bobbed his head in confirmation. She was so disappointed to see him still, the pain and resentment shone in her eyes. Sansa had said that Arya didn't hate him for what had happened to her but while interacting with her he could hardly believe it any longer. She didn't want him here. She hated Jon for his neglect of her.

She sighed once more and turned away from him. "Daenerys isn't here yet, I'm afraid. I'll go and fetch her." Arya quickly volunteered as she shrugged on a robe and stepped out the door without a backward glance in his direction leaving Jon alone.

Jon's heart burned at her nonverbal rejection of his companionship. He couldn't be forgiven for his part in her rape, as easy as it would be for him to be selfish and absolve himself of that guilt. He was partially at fault here, he couldn't let Sansa convince him otherwise when he knew the truth. He could have left Rhaegal in Meereen and defeated the Boltons in open combat. He didn't have to have Rhaegal there with him, he just wanted him there. He could have sent Rhaegal back after the Boltons were defeated but he had opted to keep his best friend by his side. That decision had cost Arya everything. She was right to hate him. Jon just couldn't afford to spend the time it would take to hate himself for it.

The wait for Arya to return thankfully wasn't a very long one but it felt much longer than it was as Jon was left alone stewing in his own guilt causing his self-hatred to only fester as much as he tried to stop it. He had caused her such pain and he had to ignore the pain that caused him for the sake of his goals. Stopping the Long Night had to come first. Even over his sister. It didn't matter if his family spat on his name, or if Arya hated him and his uncle was ashamed of who Jon had become. He had to remember the only thing that mattered was stopping the Long Night, anything else had to come after that. If he survived the Long Night he would deal with the rest of his problems.

Arya returned with his Daenerys by her side laughing at something she had just said in Valyrian to his Daenerys. Arya stopped at the open doorway and squeezed his Daenerys's hand without looking towards Jon. "I'll leave you two to yourselves, I'm sure you have much you need to discuss." She frowned and looked towards Jon with a hurt expression. "I'll speak with you when he's done." Arya did not wait for a response before stepping aside and leaving.

Jon's heart throbbed. She wanted to speak with his Daenerys not him. She didn't want to speak to him at all, she just wanted him gone so she could speak to his Daenerys. A part of him wanted to leave right then and not make Arya's life any worse than it already was. His selfishness won out in the end, and he opted to stay put as he wanted to see his Daenerys and speak to her again after so long apart from her, their conversation the previous morning had only left him wanting for more.

He gave a sad trill in farewell as Arya left without another glance back and his Daenerys entered the room and shut the door behind her. "You're earlier than you said you would be." She said in lieu of a greeting.

Jon trilled and pecked at the bars of his cage trying to beg for his freedom. He wanted to be held by her as he used to be. He didn't just want to be trapped in a cage so close to her but with a wall between them.

His Daenerys either didn't understand his request or refused to oblige him as she sat in an armchair by the windowsill a few feet away. "I spoke with Varys. He confirmed that he is a warg like you expected and agreed to send you a raven so we can communicate."

Jon trilled happily at the news.

His Daenerys continued as if he had never said anything which he supposed to her he hadn't really just made a warble of meaningless noises. "He told me that you broke this bird's mind. That wargs could break the minds of the animals they warged into. Does he speak true?"

Jon blinked owlishly at the obvious accusation. He knew where she was going with this and he couldn't voice any words to deter her from her thought process. Still, he tried all the same and tried to trill out an explanation that she obviously was unable to understand.

His Daenerys rose from her chair and stepped towards him. "I don't want your excuses, I want an answer. Can you break the minds of the animals you warg into?" She asked coldly with no hint of the usual warmness that she had always had towards him as Rhaegal.

Jon had no choice to answer honestly. He could deny it but he doubted she would believe him and Varys could prove he lied. That lie would shatter any trust she had in him and prove to her that he broken Rhaegal even though he hadn't. He had to trust that Varys would know he hadn't broken Rhaegal and could explain it to her. He had to trust that Varys would choose to do so. He didn't trust Varys but he was forced to trust the spymaster yet again. He couldn't fix this himself as much as he wished too. Jon hesitantly bobbed his head up and down.

His Daenerys did not lose any of her steeliness at his answer. "Have you broken Rhaegal?" She asked bluntly. "Is he a slave to your whims with no free will of his own like this bird is? Have you stolen my dragon from me?"

Jon quickly shook his head in denial. He wasn't even sure that was possible but even if it was he would never do that to Rhaegal or himself. To break Rhaegal was to break Jon. He wouldn't destroy any part of himself. He would sooner die- again.

Daenerys sighed and her expression softened somewhat. "I can not verify the truth of your words as much as I might wish to do so. I will make myself very clear on this, however, Jon, if I find out that you have hurt Rhaegal in any way then I will feed you to Drogon. Unburnt nephew, King, or husband your status will not protect you from my wrath. Is that understood?"

Jon nodded without hesitation. If he ever lost himself to the point where he would destroy Rhaegal's mind he would wish for his own death. He did not want to be the monster the Vale feated he was. He was not that monster and he would never be that monster. He was not Aerys Targaryen but Jon Targaryen, his own man.

Daenerys gave a faint smile and unlocked the door to his cage. Jon eagerly flew out and perched himself on her shoulder. "I am told that you've rallied the North to our rule and expect two more Kingdoms to follow suit... Even if your methods were less than satisfactory."

Jon bobbed his head in confirmation even if it wasn't entirely true but then tilted his head to the side in askance at that last part.

"You told the entire North of my past and now all of my subjects will know that I was sold by my brother as a slave, raped by my husband, and that I was weak. I told those things to you on solace believing you were unable to share them but you shared them with everyone in the North. My weakness is now public knowledge because you betrayed me and shared my secrets." Daenerys snarled.

Jon squawked in protest. That wasn't the case at all. Those things didn't show she was weak but that she was strong. That she could overcome anything. She had been placed in a horrible situation that would break any other man or woman and had come out all the stronger for it. He had shared those things so that they would see how wonderful she is, and how strong she is like he had so that they would submit to her and accept she was not her father. He hadn't meant to hurt her but to help her by sharing that information.

Daenerys huffed and shoved him off of her shoulder. "You don't get to disagree about this. It is my life you are making public not yours. If you want to tell everyone every little detail of your life you can and I will do nothing to stop you but you broke the trust I had in you when you made this public. Your intentions might have been good but your actions were wrong."

Jon rested on top of the armchair she had been sitting in earlier. He looked away from her contritely as he fell silent. Perhaps he had overstepped his bounds. How would he like it if it had been his weakness made public? He might not have ever gone through anything near as bad as she had but that didn't mean he wanted all his failures and mistakes to be known by everyone. He didn't want people to know that he had nearly deserted the watch on multiple occasions cause he had been a brat. He didn't want them to know that he could have stopped Arya's rape or that he had considered burning all of the Painted Dogs alive. Some things needed to stay private, in spite of what others might claim. He had been forced to make his weakest moment- his own death public information and it had rankled at him but he didn't have a choice if he wanted to stop the Long Night. He was living proof of the magic of the Others being possible. He might have thought that his Daenerys's past trials should be public but she didn't necessarily agree just like he hadn't agreed with Sansa's immediate desire to make his heritage public despite it maybe helping her get what she wanted in the moment.

His Daenerys's expression softened somewhat and she stepped towards him again. "No more revealing anything, I told you in solitude to anyone without my express permission. I can not take back what you've already shared as much as I might wish to do so, so you might at well continue to use my rape to further our allies but nothing new. I don't care if it seems small or insignificant to you. You will not share anything new about me unless I tell you to. Is that understood?"

Jon bobbed his head properly abashed.

His Daenerys beamed. "Good. If we are to rule as equals as you presented us to the North then we are going to have to learn to work together and respect the other as their own person- equal to them. You can not make decisions for me, that is not an equal. If you try to overstep your bounds and control me then you will kneel or die. You will not make sweeping changes in my Kingdoms without my consent. If you overstep and try to rule on your own then I will see it as an act of treason and you will be forced to kneel or die. You will not abandon the goal you claimed of remaking the world, and ending the inequalities in society. Arranged marriages have come to an end, slavery will be abolished in all the world, and the common folk will be treated as equal to the rich nobles. The wheel will be broken off and trampled underfoot. If you do this partnership as equals is over and you will bend the knee to me. I will not abandon my people to suffer under the wheel for anyone, not even Rhaegal. Do we have an accord?"

Jon only hesitated for a second before nodding. They were in unison on what they wanted to do for the world and while there were some immediate complications on ruling together once she arrived in Westeros he had every plan to do all she had proposed. He knew she would stay on the right course and their visions would remain aligned for the world. He wasn't certain he would be the one who kneeled if it came to a conflict between them but that conflict would never happen so he agreed anyways.

His Daenerys smiled once more as Jon fluttered over until he sat on her shoulder once more. "Then I will accept you as King and my equal as long as you keep your end of the bargain, Jon."

Jon bobbed his head once more in agreement and let out a happy trill.

He stayed there in silence perched on his Daenerys's shoulder for a long while content to just be around her although he did wish she would speak to him, tell him of her day or something like she had when he was Rhaegal. Still, he understood why she didn't he had betrayed her trust once already- she wasn't going to trust him again so easily. He would earn her trust but he couldn't force it as just a measly raven.

All too soon for Jon's liking, his Daenerys stroked the top of his head and bid him farewell. "I should get going. I'm sure you and Arya want some time to speak alone, since it's been so long and I've been hogging you to myself. Take care, Jon."

Jon trilled sadly as she walked to the door, dislodging him from his perch on her shoulder in the process. She left him without a glance back at the bird he occupied presently.

Jon was left alone to wait for Arya to maybe return. If she wanted to actually speak to him that was. Jon wasn't sure that was the case. In fact, he was pretty sure that wasn't the case but he had to try. He could apologize to her in the least and be there for her now as a bird even if he couldn't as a human. He could be her shoulder to cry on and a comfort to her in this time of strife.

Jon wasn't waiting long for Arya to enter the room. She had a bright smile on her face that made Jon happier than he could express as a bird. Perhaps, her life wasn't all awful now. She had some joy at least in these horrible circumstances.

The smile died when she caught sight of Jon perched on the chair, eyes following her. "You're still here." She said quietly and Jon thought he could hear the disappointment in her tone.

Jon tore himself out of the bird without a second thought. What had Jon been thinking? Of course, he couldn't be her shoulder to cry on. He was the reason she needed a shoulder to cry on. She had found some joy in her horrible circumstances but that joy was not him. He was just the cause of more misery for her. The best thing he could do to help her was to leave her alone. That was what she clearly wanted from him. She didn't want to speak to him or be around him. She just wanted him to go away. She hated him and she was right to do so. Jon hated himself for his inaction.

His face was damp with his tears at Arya's rejection but he hastily wiped them away. He couldn't focus on the pain that he caused her. He had to push his own selfish feelings and desires aside for the greater good. He had to remember that the Long Night was all that really mattered right now. Arya might hate him forever but he would do everything he could to keep her alive.

He rose on unsteady legs out of the bed he had hardly used the previous night. The hour or so of rest that his body had gotten while he conversed with his Daenerys would have to be enough to sustain him. He didn't want to sleep after that nor could he. He had daddled with the Burned Men long enough, he had to go and get the next army of his to fight the Others.

* * *

Jon stifled a yawn as he closed in on the place where he believed the Black Ears to be encamped according to the likely worthless studies he had conducted beforehand. His information was out of date or just plain inaccurate but it was all he had to operate on. His hour of rest while speaking to Daenerys had probably not been enough but he hardly had the time to rest. He had to amass his army as quickly as possible so he could claim his throne and command the full might of the Seven Kingdoms to march North and fight the Others. It was the only way they would win.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before casting his gaze below him. There appeared to be a village constructed of stone houses on the hillside and if he wasn't mistaken the tiny specs he saw in the distance were people. It appeared the village was at least not abandoned as the Moon Brothers village had been, that was a relief. If the rest of his information proved true, he would just have to wait and see. It was too bright out for him to hide his entrance to their camp so they would be unprepared to counterattack so he made no effort to do so.

"Rhaegal, let's announce the coming of a dragon. Roar for..." Jon commanded Rhaegal before trailing off as he thought about what he had just asked him to do. He had failed to gain the allegiance of the Painted Dogs because fear had been his primary motivation. His successes has been through love. He had a history with those people which was why he had gained their loyalty, one he lacked with the Black Ears. Yet, Jon didn't want to see them recoil in fear like the Painted Dogs had. He didn't want to threaten genocide and the death of children. He didn't want to hear whispers behind his back or bold accusations to his face about the ludicrous idea that he had inherited the so-called Targaryen Madness. He didn't want to feel that perverse pleasure he had first felt when he saw the painted dogs squirm ever again. He didn't want to embrace the monster inside him if he didn't have to. Most of the time he didn't have a choice in the matter but perhaps he did here.

He didn't really need the support of the Black Ears to claim the throne or to stop the Long Night. He needed every man he could get to maximize their chances but the Black Ears were a smaller tribe, only a few hundred strong. Losing their men would have a minimal effect if the peaceful solution failed. It would show him if there was an alternative to fear without that history of love or loyalty. If it failed he lost a few hundred men, but if it succeeded then he would know that he could do as he wished and use love to gain the loyalty of men. If it succeeded, he could potentially gain more men to his cause than he would by using fear. This could be an experiment that would define his strategy not only for the rest of the mountain clans but for the entirety of the seven kingdoms maybe.

Jon sighed and nodded, his mind made up. "Let's set down in that clearing over there," Jon directed Rhaegal as he pointed towards the outskirts of the village that the Black Ears likely resided in. "We'll try this the right way this one," he whispered to himself.

They set down with nary a roar or a shot of fire into the sky in intimidation. Even still, a crowd who had spotted the dragon flocked around them- albeit out a distance, carrying weapons and wary. Jon undid the straps on his saddle and dismounted from Rhaegal. He wanted to try this one without them fearing him or Rhaegal.

He slid out of the saddle and stood on his shaky feet after the long flight. He took a step towards the crowd and they instinctively stepped back in fear. Jon sighed and turned back towards Rhaegal, and rubbed the side of his maw. "I need to do this alone, go fly overhead for a bit until I'm done." Rhaegal purred and nuzzled his head into Jon's breastplate before flapping his wings and flying off. He couldn't be here if Jon didn't want their decision to follow him or not to be based on their fear. Jon would be safe with or without the dragon in the clansmen's direct sight as if they turned hostile Rhaegal would be upon them in an instant ready to use whatever force was needed. Jon watched Rhaegal for a moment and took a deep breath to gather his resolve before turning back towards the crowd with a forced smile.

"Greetings. I'm King Jon of House Targaryen; King of the Seven Kingdoms." Jon said giving a jaunty wave. "I've come to discuss an alliance with your leaders that I believe can be mutually beneficial to us all." He left out his long list of titles that only caused more intimidation. He wanted to try meeting them without the pretentious list of bullshit he usually had. He wanted them to love him and the titles didn't give him that at all.

One woman, a bit unsightly stepped out from the front of the crowd hefting her silver spear in front of her with the blade pointed at him. Her figure was flat and boyish with her features hard and unfriendly. She wore a necklace composed of ears around her neck. Jon knew that they took them from their enemies when they killed them as a trophy of sorts.

She looked up at the dragon briefly that was circling overhead before gulping and redirecting her attention towards Jon and the burning crown on his brow. Her eyes narrowed at him. "I am Chella, daughter of Cheyk. My people are not interested in whatever you have to offer. We are our own people who follow our own gods."

Jon forced another smile. "I have no desire to make your forsake your gods. The Old Gods are the gods of my mother's family. The New belong to my father's side. The Gods of Essos have ties to me as well. You may worship whomever you please." He tried to keep his frustration oout of his voice from yet another rejection, it seemed that no matter his method, people just refused to kneel towards him. What separated him from the fat usurper in their mind? Why kneel to him but not Jon. He had more power and actually cared got his people. This was a peace offering on Jon's part before he gave up on this method. He knew that they had forsaken the Arryn's rule when they came in with the New Gods and put an end to the Old Rites in the Vale. This was something they had to hear to know he was different from the Vale Lords on.

Chella's face did not falter nor did she give him any ground and her people held strong before her. "Might I have some bread and salt while we discuss this?" Jon asked as a peace offering. "I merely wish to exchange terms with you, there is no need for this to turn violent. I will do you no harm, you have my word." Jon needed guest right to be enacted here, he knew that they kept the Old Gods which meant they abided by the sacred law of hospitality, and unlike the followers of the corrupt seven, they would not break the right. To them, it was still unbreakable as it was doubtful that they knew of the Freys' breaking it.

Chella lowered the spear slightly and glanced up at Rhaegal then back towards the other villagers. "Should we hear this man out?" She asked her people, ignoring Jon for the moment. "Do we want to welcome this so-called King into our walls, or do we tell him to fuck off and to take his alliance back to the Arryns, that we don't want to discuss terms with them ever again?"

Jon's hand drifted down to Longclaw at his hip. It appeared that the negotiations of peace would turn to violence after all. They didn't accept his offers of diplomacy without a history between them and he couldn't even expect their fealty in the face of fear here.

To Jon's shock, the question wasn't actually as rhetorical as it sounded. "Why should we hear him out when they refused to hear us before?" One man said with some anger. "We want nothing to do with the Vale or their King!" He snarled.

"Perhaps we should hear him out," Chella, daughter of Cheyk reasoned. "What harm could it do?"

"Why bother?" A woman roared. "He's not going to keep his word regardless of what he promises. The Arryn's promised that they would protect our interests when they stole the crown from King Robar, they hardly kept their word then. Why would now be any different?"

"He has a monster," A boy of age with Rickon said fearfully. "We don't really have a choice in the matter."

"I would rather die then have my Gods torn from me as they were from our forefathers!" An elderly man snarled.

It was so different from what Jon had seen in the seven Kingdoms or even with the Wildlings. They were a group making the decision alongside their leader. It wasn't the leader ruling but the people deciding through the voice of their leader what to do. Mance Rayder had chosen what his people did, he did the best for them, and they followed him because they respected and believed in them but it was never their decision the path they chose just if they followed. Here, Chella had given every person, even a child a chance to be heard and express their thoughts. Even if the consenseuss was against him, a part of Jon would admit it was beautiful.

"He's not an Arryn," Chella pointed out. "He's a Targaryen or whatever. We don't know that he will try to take our Gods from us."

"Targyen or Arryn, he is still an Andal" The man argued fiercely. "We can not trust them!"

"Targaryen," Jon made to correct them with an assurance that he wasn't an Arryn and grew up in the North, worshipping their Gods but the crowd drowned him out with their vocal conversations about if they should offer him guest right or not. They argued back and forth for ten or so minutes before finally coming to a consensus.

"If we are to grant him guest right, then surely we can count on at least safe-conduct for the time being. He would not be able to do us any harm today." A young man reasoned. If we don't offer him hospitality, what is to stop his dragon from burning us all? Guest right could protect us from retaliation."

"He's an Andal!" The same man from before argued. "They have no honor! We can not trust him to honor the old rites!"

"Enough!" Chella called out silencing the argument. "I have heard what you have to say and have come to a decision. "Fetch the bread and salt, Rogor." She looked towards the one who had been so insistent that Andals were not to be trusted. "Myrn is right, we truly don't have much of a choice. If we reject him, we might die. Not even the Arryns were evil enough to break Guest Right and turn on their hosts and guests under the ancient protection. This Targaryen is unlikely to be any worse.

Jon exhaled in relief and an honest smile crept onto his lips as he unwound his fist from the blade on his hip. When the man returned with the salt and wineglass held out towards him. Jon gladly took the peace offering and broke off a small chunk of the loaf, and dipped it in the wine. The bread was dry and flavorless on his tongue but it was like the sweetest honey to him. It was the guarantee that he wouldn't need to or be able to turn to violence right now regardless of the result of their discussions.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Chella, daughter of Cheyk," Jon said honestly.

She nodded stiffly and turned away from him and started walking back towards the village with Jon trailing behind her after only a moment of hesitation. She stepped inside one of the larger buildings, likely the townhouse and he stepped in behind her. After them came the entire crowd?

She took a seat at the head of the largest table and Jon remained standing for the moment as the other hundred people there sat themselves around that table and once that table was full around the rest of the tables.

After a moment Chella spoke, there were still some people bustling about but she quickly silenced them. "Speak, tell us of your supposedly mutually beneficial alliance," She ordered Jon, her tone showing just how little regard she held for his idea.

Jon nodded, slightly intimidated by having to convince a whole crowd on his lonesome rather than just one leader or a handful of elders. "I am prepared to offer you a free supply of crops and other resources, cotton, steel, and more if you agree to join with the Seven Kingdoms and cease all of your raids on the Vale. There will be no more plunder and stealing to survive, all that you may have need of will be provided for you. There will be no more senseless blood shed. You won't have to turn to crime to survive any longer."

There was an immediate uproar of the many men and women of the Black Ears who wanted to make their opinion on his offer known. "We don't want to be under your rule!" A voice called out. "What if we like raiding!" Another protested. "We will not bow to your gods!" A third proclaimed. He didn't catch most of what they said, but what he did hear got the message across clearly enough. They were not interested in his proposal.

After a moment, Chella stood to her feet and banged her mug on the table to silence the crowd. "Why would we ever submit to your rule?" She laughed. "You offer us resources to join you but we've gotten them on our own to survive in the past. Raiding has always been enough to sustain us, and it will forever be. Is it perfect? Of course not, but it is enough. More importantly, it does not force us to give up our gods and cultures so that we can conform to a King that refuses to hear us out."

Jon bristled at the insult. "Why do you assume that I would not hear you out?" He would hear them out, he wasn't like his father. He wasn't selfish, he cared for his people and would do what was best for them. He wasn't going to ignore their wants… like he had with the North and the Vale… He wouldn't ignore them anymore, Jon amended. "I am not like the Arryn's you despise so much. I only want what is best for my people- all of my people, yourself included. I will allow you to choose your own Gods, be them the Old Gods in the North, the New Gods of the South, the Lord of Light of Essos, or a grain of sand on the beach. Everyone can choose to worship whoever or whatever they want. I am only trying to make sure all of my people are safe and happy. The raids you conduct are bloodshed that is entirely avoidable if we just gifted you what you steal." Jon reasoned.

There were some murmurings from the crows but it was Chella who replied to him this time. "What's the catch?" She asked without looking at him.

Jon swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. This always seemed to be the make or break moment for him. "The catch is that I need you to fight alongside me."

There was an immediate uproar from the crowd that Chella quickly silenced with another bang of her mug. "You should have lead with that. You're coming to us in order to save your throne, likely desperate and facing impossible odds so you need all the help you can get. You have to offer us these amenities because you need us." Chella said and barked off a laugh. "You can take your offer with you and leave. We will not bow or fight for a King who doesn't care at all about us."

Jon shook his head and spoke morosely. "I do not ask your help to reclaim my throne from the usurper who currently sits upon it, I have no doubt that I could reclaim it on my lonesome, with or without your help. I come to ask you to fight alongside me in the only war that matters, the one between the living and the dead."

Jon took a deep breath to steady himself as every eye turned towards him and was glued on his face, unblinking. "The Great Other that the First Men spoke of in their legends is real. I've seen him myself beyond the wall and he is lurking and marching on the Wall with the intent of bringing an eternal winter. The Long Night is at hand, the Others are coming soon and with them marches an army at least two-hundred thousand strong filled with the corpses of nearly unkillable men and many beasts of burden."

"The only way we stand a chance against him is if we all work together. Every man, women and child in Westeros and half of Essos as well is likely what we'll need to defeat them, if we want to survive. If you don't want to fight for me in my wars, fine. I only ask that you don't fight against me. Every man who dies in a raid is one less on the side of the living in the Great War and one more wight in the Great Others army."

"You ask me what the catch is? There is none. This isn't about, you, me or anyone else. This is about life itself, this is about the Long Summer and the Eternal Winter. This is the fight between day and night. This is greater than any man, be they a clansman, a wildling, a southerner, a Northern kneeler, or even a King. I realize how improbable this sounds, impossible even but I assure you this is the truth. I would swear it in front of a weirwood tree, and in the sights of God and men. I want my family's throne but not so I can rule, I want it so that I can order every man in the seven kingdoms to march North on the wall and prepare for the war to end all wars. That is the catch, unlike the Kings of the Vale you've had in the past I want you to survive, all of you."

There was a stunned silence at Jon's declaration of intent. "Is this a joke?" Chella barked. "Do you think that we are so stupid as to believe myths are real and will come running into your arms for protection from them?" She laughed. "We reject your alliance and want nothing to do with the Seven Kingdoms or it's insane King. Go, leave. We do not want you here any longer."

Jon frowned but did not leave as he was asked to do so. "My lady- Chella, daughter of Cheyk, I urge you to listen to what I have to say. I'm aware that it is insane, I didn't believe it at first either, only once I saw the Others for myself. I didn't understand the threat properly at first, not until I watched the Great Other and his army effortlessly slaughter nearly a hundred thousand men. Perhaps, I am as mad as my grandfather before me and there is no army of the dead. Can we really afford to take that chance? If we refuse to act, we are dooming all of humanity with our inaction. I will not go down in history as the King who let his fear stop him from action or who willingly blinded his eyes from the horrors that awaited. I will not let humanity die on my watch, there are more important things at stake here than any crown or throne. This is a war for life itself. Don't dismiss this out of hand, as crazy as it sounds this is the honest truth. The dead live and I stand here before you today as proof of that fact."

There was another stunned silence across the room at Jon's adamant declaration until a young man with sandy colored hair broke it. "Perhaps, we should heed his warning?" He asked quietly. "The fear in his eyes is clear for everyone to see. Maybe the myths aren't just myths but reality long forgotten. What do we have to lose by preparing just in case?"

"What do we have to lose?" A heavyset man bellowed. "Our freedom. Our voice. He wants us to bend the knee to him, and to follow all his decrees without question. He wants to force his own laws and customs upon us while just like the Arryns he will take our Gods and traditions from us so we can conform to his southern ones."

Jon shook his head vehemently. "All that I ask is that you respect the integrity of the Seven Kingdoms, their laws, and their people. I will not control all of your lives. You will remain self-governed just under my banner. You will be able to choose who you worship and what traditions you follow. If you want to continue to take the ears of the enemies that you kill, I will not stand in your way. If you want to prostrate yourself in front of a weirwood and dance naked in the light of the moon I will not stop you. If you want to erect a golden statue of a severed ear and worship that, I will not stand in your way. Your day to day life will not change aside from not conducting any more raids. I am not asking you to give up your freedom. You will agree to stand with me and respect my people and in return you will be given resources to survive and you will gain the protection of both myself and my dragon."

"We don't have a weirwood anymore, not since the Arryns tore them all the roots and burnt them until they were naught but ashes," one man grumbled.

Jon bit his lip to hide his smile at the obvious opening. "You will be given the seeds to plant new weirwood trees for you to worship, if you accept my offer. It will take a few years, and you'll have to grow them yourselves but you can have a weirwood tree again. The Arryns might have torn your people apart and been oppressive rulers but I am not one of them. I want my people to be happy and it's hard to be happy while your are in chains, and unable to choose. It's hard to be happy when you aren't free to worship your gods in your own chosen way."

"How would we receive those aforementioned resources? "A rugged person with long matted hair that Jon couldn't identify the gender of asked. "Would they be delivered to us on dragonback? Will the villagers go out to us themselves and deliver them? Will we be expected to visit the Eeyrie every week to pick them up for the rest of us?"

Jon shook his head. "No, they will be brought to Castiron Hill in the valley of the mountain on every new moon where soldiers provided by the Lord of the Eeyrie will be waiting with a caravan stocked with food, wool, and steel for your use. A representative of each clan will be there to pick up their clan's shipment for that month. If anyone tries to take any other clans portion or turns on the soldiers violently then it will be seen as a declaration of war by their clan and will result in the offending party's annihilation."

That same person nodded, apparently satisfied with Jon's response. "In that case, I am fine with accepting the King's generous offer. If he wants to pretend we are his subjects and order us to head North to fight an enemy who we would fight without any King if they were real in exchange for free recourses and ending the loss of our own lives in the previously necessary raids then I am all for it."

There were some applause and nodds in agreement with the sentiment. "And what if your soldiers turn on us? Will you penalize us for their crimes? If they slaughter our children will you slaughter more of them as avenge for our reparation? Or will you like everyone before you always believe your people instead of the savage clansmen?" A burly man snarled.

Jon shook his head immediately. "Of course not, If you accept my offer then you will be my people. It will be my duty to protect you from all who would seek to do you harm. If the soldier is the guilty party then he will be the one to lose his life. If the attack was ordered by some Noble Lord then he will be punished as if he is a common man. II care about the lives and opinions of all my people equally be they Wildling, Noble, peasant, or Clansmen." The words felt like poison to his mouth as he felt a pool of guilt coiling in his stomach for some reason. He did believe what he was saying he knew that for certain but he hadn't lived that.

The burly man harrumphed. "In that case, I guess we can humor you for a time to get free food before your system inevitably fails and we go back to warring with the Knights of the Vale. A few weeks of a peace will be nice,"

There was a few nodds and muttering in agreement. "You said you standing here today was proof that the dead lived again," a pretty young maiden asked. "What did you mean by that?"

Jon frowned but knew this was necessary. He was protected by guest right, they wouldn't violate that to take care of his moment of weakness. They unlike the Freys followed the Old Gods rather than the corrupt new ones. "Exactly as it sounds. I died but didn't stay dead. I was killed by my own brothers of the Night's Watch for stopping thousands of innocents from being eradicated at the hands of the Great Other." His fingers deftly undid the buttons of his gambeson.

"I was dead for seven days, before a Red Witch from the East brought me back to life by burning an innocent child alive. If I can live, a normal life, all things considered, then surely we must consider the possibility that the Great Other can reanimate the corpses of dead men." There was complete silence when Jon stripped off his undershirt leaving his naked torso open to their lecherous gazes. Their eyes locked in on the crescent mark just about his heart, still red and angry with the wound having never sealed even after his return. "There is no denying that I died but here I am before you today. Proclaiming the truth. The dead live and they are coming for us all, only together will we be able to survive the Winter."

"You broke your vow once already, the Night's Watch is for life. Yet you've left the wall and are proclaiming yourself as a King. If you are willing to break one sacred oath, why should we trust that you will keep this one?" A woman pointed out and there were nods in agreement with her statement all around the room and noises of agreement as well.

Jon frowned. "I upheld my vows until my last breath. I lived and died at my post." He said firmly.

"That isn't your vows though is it? A woman rationalized. "You might have chosen to interpret them that way but it is not what they say. You pledged your life to the Night's Watch for this night and all the nights to come not until your death."

Jon sighed. The Vows weren't written for someone to come back from the dead. They contradicted themselves for a case such as Jon since his vows stated that it was both until death and for all eternity in two separate parts of the vow. This was just semantics though and arguing over it would do him no good. "I won't argue with you over semantics. I left the Night's watch, aye. I have worn a crown, claimed lands as my own, I plan to take a wife and to father children. Perhaps I have broken my vows but I will still focus on the goals of the Night's Watch and give my life to see them fulfilled. I will forever be the sword in the darkness and the shield that guards the realms of men from the threat the Night's Watch was created to combat. Whether that be from beyond the wall in the far north, or be it on the Iron throne in the south. I will give my life in pursuit of victory against the Others as I already have once before. I know my words won't persuade you that I'm to be trusted so look at my heart, look at my actions. I wouldn't be here treatising with you as equals if I wasn't serious about this. I would immediately turn my attention south and take the throne with fire and blood as my ancestor did."

"This is no joke or grand lie I've concocted, this is the truth as horrible as it might be. We must band together with the whole realm behind us if we want to win this war. The war on the south matters solely because they can bring us victory in the North when we have the armies of the South following our commands. I will not let humanity die out, no matter the personal cost. I won't ask that you do the same and give up everything you own to stop them, I do ask that you stand beside me and fight the true enemy alongside me."

Chella stood to her feet. "I can not speak for my people but I at least will accept your offer for as long as you uphold the end of your bargain; Jon, son of Targaryen. I will take your offered free recourses in exchange for no longer partaking in any raids. I will fight by your side in the Great War and whatever war you must win to win the Great War. Our ancestors sang songs of the Long Night and I will not allow it to come again. If we are to win then an alliance is necessary, if that means I must bend my knee then so be it. Although I will never silence my voice for you or for anyone else."

Jon grinned as people around the room echoed the sentiment. He had no history here but he had managed to gain their loyalty and partnership not with threats or fear but through diplomacy and trust. This truly was the better way to do things, and it felt better too. He had to stop threatening death and destruction on his prospective allies and extend a hand in friendship. Most people weren't Janon Slynt and even Slynt had been offered friendship first. Daenerys had offered diplomacy to the Harpies first as well before Jon had turned violent on them as Rhaegal. Diplomacy first then the fear if it failed was the better way.

He would do things the better way from now on.

* * *

Jon had a wide smile on his face as Rhaegl closed in on the final camp of his expedition around the Vale. Things had been going much better for him lately. The Burned Men had agreed to side with him and the Black Ears had followed in their footsteps, won to his cause through peaceful diplomacy. He had tried the same tactics with the rest of the Mountain Clans. He had seen the Storm Crows turn him away with his choosing peace over the violence they craved and while the Milk Snakes had scoffed at the thought of the Others; they had still accepted the offer of free resources in exchange for the peace. The Redsmiths had been won to his side at the thought of the Others and agreed to fight for him in both wars when they saw he came back from the dead for "the touch of all of the Gods was on him." The Sons of the Tree and the Sons of the Mist might not agree on how the Old Gods spoke to them but they did agree that the Weirwood tree was a part of the medium and the promise of more weirwood saplings won them over. They both believed in the Old Gods and the Long Night was in their culture. They too had stood with him when he promised to give some power back to the Old Gods.

The only Clan left for him to visit aside from the missing Moon Brothers was the Howlers. After this final meeting, he would return to the Eeyrie to collect Sansa and then head back to Winterfell. Then he would be back to dealing with squalling stupid Lords rather than the diverse, free and independent Clansmen. He would have to go back and rule be fear again, for that was the only thing they seemed to understand in the south.

There was no gleeful roar or bouts of fire upon landing this time. Fear wasn't the answer and Jon wanted to do nothing to inspire it with the Mountain Clans anymore. He landed with nary a sound, it was completely needless to make noise to gain their attention. A dragon got that on its own regardless of his approach.

He was met with the oddest sight upon landing, not a crowd of men thronging around him but a pack of wolves snarling up at him. Unmoving human corpses laid spread throughout the field. What had happened here? What kind of magic had slaughtered hundreds without any discrimination?

Jon had no control over Rhaegal's reactions to the hostile dogs at that point. A loud roar shook the earth and a large bout of flames incinerated some of the hostile wolves as Rhaegal claimed this land for himself.

Screams erupted all around Jon as the men around the field Jon thought were dead snapped into consciousness with pained howls of agony. They writhed on the floor like they were the ones who had just been burnt by Rhaegal despite his flames only hitting the wolves.

_Because they were._ They were wargs just like him. They had entered the Wolves to defend their village when they saw his dragon, and as such, they felt the pain of the dragon's fire in their minds as if they were the ones burnt. Jon wanted to vomit when he saw a little girl, no older than eight namedays curled in a ball sobbing at the pain Jon had just inflicted on her bonded wolf. The pain he had forced an innocent child to endure.

It sounded impossible but somehow the clan seemed to be composed almost entirely out of wargs. He knew that the Howlers had used wolves in past raids but he had imagined that they maybe had a handful of wargs, not an entire clan.

Jon knew that diplomacy was impossible at this point. He never would have chosen to be diplomatic and kneel to Thorne after he killed Ghost. That door would forever be closed to him, they would not be his willing allies ever again after he had burned the hostile wolves.

Jon wasn't sure that was at all a bad thing either as he didn't really want a Clan of Wargs anyways. Jon could keep the existence of wargs a secret when it was just a few dozen wildlings. Keeping an entire clan silent about their talents was nigh impossible and even those who hated the wildlings and Clansmen would see the truth and likely by extent that Jon was one. He needed to keep that advantage a secret to retain it. Having the Howlers march in his army would ruin that.

Rhaegal roared once more at Jon's command and beat his wings loudly to try and scare the wolves off. "I am King Jon of House Targaryen!" Jon shouted out knowing that they could still hear him from within their wolves skin. "Rightful King of the Andals, the Rhyonar, and the First Men. Lord Protector of the Realm and King over all of the Seven Kingdoms."

"There will be resources brought to Castiron Hill in the valley of the mountain on every new moon where soldiers provided by the Lord of the Eeyrie will be waiting with a caravan stocked with food, cloth, and iron for your use. A representative of each clan will be there to pick up their clan's shipment for that month. If anyone tries to take any other clans portion or turns on the soldiers violently then it will be seen as a declaration of war by their clan and will result in the offending party's annihilation."

"Your raids will cease," Jon warned. "You will no longer steal from the innocent commoners or the rich nobles to survive. Any raids will result in raids against you but with a dragon on their side. You will respect the integrity of the Lords of the Vale and honor their laws when you trespass on their lands, just as they will respect your laws when they trespass on your lands."

"If you fail to keep this decree then I will return and bring fire and blood. This is your only warning. Accept this offer of peace or die."

Jon didn't wait for a response, he didn't want one here. He had offered fire and blood to force them into line because fear was the only avenue open to him after what he did. They would accept the offer in fear of their own lives hopefully.

"Sovegon." He said quietly to Rhaegal and they took to the skies fleeing from the failed expedition to recruit the Howlers to his cause. This was just more proof that fear was often the wrong solution with free people.

* * *

Sansa and Lord Baelish were there to greet him when he landed after a week spent touring the various Mountain Clans in order to gain their support.

He dismounted from Rhaegal and Baelish bowed before him. "The Vale is yours, Your Grace," he said suavely.

Jon lifted an eyebrow in askance. "What exactly does that mean this time?"

It was Sansa who answered his query. "It means exactly what he said. The Vale is all but yours. Lords Royce, Lord Redfort, Lady Waynewood, Lord Templeton, and Lord Hunter have all agreed to hear you out again when your Queen journeys to Westeros and are open to bending the knee to a trueborn Targaryen. Once the Septons spread the news of your goodness, I suspect the rest of the Vale will follow their example."

Jon was shocked. He had thought Baelish would steal him a house or two at most not the five biggest superpowers in the entire Vale. "How on earth did you manage that in only a week?" He asked in disbelief.

Lord Baelish chuckled. "I can be very persuasive, I merely assuaged some of their concerns and convinced them to see that you truly were the best choice to be King. I swore to give you the Vale and I am not one to breaks vows lightly."

It was obvious that they weren't revealing everything but Jon wouldn't press him about it. He would get the full report from Sansa once they were back in Winterfell. He would let Baelish think he had accepted that as all there was too it when it couldn't have been.

Jon nodded still stunned at the reveal. "Thank you, Lord Baelish, Sansa, I might not have been able to do that without your help. I promise that I will keep my end of our bargain and see you properly rewarded with a place on my council and give more responsibilities to you in the future." Jon said honestly. He knew that Baelish held no loyalty towards him but Jon had to remember he still wanted Jon on the throne in the short term. He could be trusted to work towards that end for now. He had proven himself capable to do as asked efficiently. He might make it clear that Jon needed him while gaining the men but he would still get them and right now that was all that mattered to Jon. He could trust him to do that much.

"I take it your trip to the Mountain Clans was not as successful?" Baelish asked in a somewhat patronizing tone. "I tried to warn you that they could not be reasoned with, Your Grace."

Jon scoffed. "While I did not gain the entirety of the Mountain Clans as I had hoped, I did gain some. Do not think me as incapable of a King as the Usurper and the Lannister bastards."

"I meant no offense, Your Grace," Lord Baelish was quick to apologize. "I just had little expectation that they would ever accept reasoning from an Andal."

"I am not just an Andal, but I also have the blood of the First Men. The Burned Men and Redsmiths will fight for me in the war to the south and to the North. The Black Ears will stand with us in the Great War to the North and a select group of them will join us in the war against the south. The Sons of the Mist and the Sons of the Tree will fight on our behalf in the Great War but not the war to the South. The rest of the Clans have been informed that all raiding must cease or they will face a dragon in retaliation. They are aware that they will receive their monthly shipment of recourses at Castiron hill provided that they keep the peace."

Baelish nodded. "That is excellent news, Your Grace, far more than I expected. Congratulations."

Jon nodded. "As pleasant as finally meeting you has been Lord Baelish, I believe it is time we return to Winterfell. We've been apart from Rickon long enough and he's likely clamoring for our return."

Lord Baelish nodded. "Of course, Your Grace, I assure you that the pleasure is all mine. It is refreshing to meet a King who truly cares about his people." He turned towards Sansa and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Take care, my Lady, it was wonderful seeing you again."

Sansa opted to hug him. "I'll miss you Petyr," she said quietly and Lord Baelish whispered something to her that Jon could not decipher. When they parted she turned towards Jon, "Shall we be off?"

* * *

"So what did you really do to get their loyalty?" Jon asked the moment he had shut the door to his solar in Winterfell. "I know there is more to it than you told me."

Sansa sighed and took a seat in one of the wooden chairs at the desk as Jon took a seat across from her. "There is more but the gist of it the same. They will support your claim to the Iron Throne."

"Care to elaborate," Jon prodded.

"I couldn't tell you how he gained the loyalty of the Lord Templeton, he refused to divulge the contents of their meeting- even to me. He claimed that what I didn't know couldn't hurt me and that was that." Sansa explained.

Jon's eyes narrowed slightly but he didn't think she was lying about that. He would have to wait and see what Baelish had promised the Lord that brought about a change of heart. Perhaps Varys might know something.

"Lord Baelish bought up all of the debts of House Waynwood and used it to blackmail her into supporting your claim to the throne." Sansa continued unpulsed by Jon's lack of reply. "Her loyalty will remain yours as long as you keep him around. If you were to remove him now you would lose her support."

"Lord Gilwood Hunter was won over by offering him justice from you on behalf of his father who was murdered by his youngest brother; Ser Harlan. You will claim that Lord Varys had a little bird tell him that Ser Harlan murdered his father. When Lord Gilwood pledges himself to you, you will reveal his brother's murder of his father. You will execute Ser Harlan on the behalf of Lord Gilwood so he does not need to fear for his own life and is not branded a kinslayer for turning on his kinslaying kin."

Jon leaned towards Sansa to look into her eyes. "Did Ser Harlan actually murder his father?" He asked after a brief pause

Sansa scoffed. "Does it matter? Regardless of if it is the truth or not, you will have the support of Lord Hunter and the men he commands will be yours."

"Yes, Sansa it matters," Jon argued passionately. "I will not condemn an innocent man to die just so I can have more power or so that a different man will kneel to me. I will not compromise on that matter. If he is not guilty then I will not condemn him to die."

Sanso frowned at that. "Baelish claims he is guilty."

Jon ran a hand through his air in frustration. "How does Baelish know who is guilty?" He wondered aloud. "Did he have a part in the murder of Lord Gilwood?"

"Why does it matter Jon?" Sansa snarled in frustration. "You have no problem working with Lord Baelish knowing what he has done because it gives you the Vale and you said we need every man possible to stop the Long Night! Why is Lord Gilwood worse than Baelish to you?"

"It has nothing to do with how evil Lord Baelish or Lord Gilwood is!" Jon hissed. "I will break bread with murderers and rapists if I have to in order to stop the Long Night. That is not the issue with your clever plot! It has everything to do with Ser Harlan. I will not stand by and let an innocent man die for a crime he did not commit under any circumstances. I will not compromise in that manner ever!"

"You're a fucking hypocrite Jon!" She snapped at him. "How is executing Ser Harlan any worse then murdering hundreds at Last Hearth?"

"I offered them mercy!" Jon shouted back. He was seething. "I gave them the chance to bend their knee and keep their lives. They chose not to! Ser Harlan would not have the choice to confess and keep his life or to surrender if it is a fucking execution for a crime he did not commit!"

"They were just following orders Jon! They didn't have a choice but to fight you when their liege lord commanded it!" Sansa ranted.

Jon couldn't stop himself from laughing at that. "Just because they were ordered to do something doesn't mean they didn't have a choice. You always have a choice, Sansa. My Daenerys didn't take Meereen with his dragons or even with her unsullied. She took Meereen because she inspired the slaves to turn on their masters and take the city back for themselves. She took Meereen because Slaves had the strength to defy the one they called their masters and CHOSE to be free. If Slaves can choose to defy their masters then a peasant can choose to defy their liege. They chose not to, and they died because of that."

Sansa looked like she was going to scream something back at him but she refrained and took deep breaths to calm herself. "Lord Baelish was told by a whore of his who slept with a drunk Ser Harlan who bragged about his deed."

Jon clenched his fists as he tried to calm himself. He could decide what to do with the Hunters later, he needed to hear the rest of the report. He would take Baelish's account for now although he would still like to find more ironclad proof of his guilt before he would execute a possibly innocent man. "Tell me of how you earned the support of the other three lords," Jon ordered through gritted teeth.

She folded her hands over her lap and glanced away from him. "Lord Redfort was irate with you before the meeting ever began after you promised Mya that she could marry his son under your rule, regardless of his father's wishes. I convinced him that he should be thanking you rather than cursing you."

Jon scoffed. "How did you manage that? Did you offer to murder his brother for him too?" He snarked, still annoyed over the situation with the Hunters.

Sansa frowned. "No. I reminded him that Mya was a Baratheon bastard and told him you would legitimize her which would give his House a claim to the Stormlands."

"It was not your place to do that," Jon said firmly. In truth, he had no problem with legitimizing a bastard; regardless of what house they hailed from. If it was solely up to him he likely would have legitimized her or a different Baratheon bastard without any prompting from Sansa. This wasn't solely up to him though, this was personal to his Daenerys and he would not make such a decision without her input. They were equals as rulers, not him over her or vice versa.

"I thought you are the one who wanted bastards to have a place? I gave her that and gained you an army in the process and you are mad at me for that?" Sansa snapped back.

"Aye. I want bastards to have a place. I might have legitimized her myself if given the opportunity without prompting. I can not make that decision on my own, however. The Baratheons are personal to my Daenerys. She hates their house for plotting her murder time and time again and stealing our families throne as she rightfully should. She hates them..." He trailed off remembering that he had promised not to share her history without express permission. "I can not make a decision to restore them to a position of power without her input. I will not be the one who rules, we will be the ones who rule," he concluded.

Sansa rose to her feet in a rage. "Your Queen is not capable of making rational decisions! She fucked Arya's rapist and knighted him because she was smitten with him! If she is not capable of seeing past her hatred of Robert Baratheon and seeing the bigger picture then maybe she shouldn't have the power to make those decisions in the first place!"

Jon's face darkened at that as he too rose to his feet. "What you speak of is considered treason. Do not speak of things you do not understand!" He warned harshly.

Sansa scoffed at that. "Or what? You'll execute me? You'll choose over me just like you chose her over Arya?"

"I Did not choose her over Arya!" Jon screamed at her. "She was not the one to rape Arya! I am more guilty of that than her! Arya does not blame her in the slightest, nor do I, and neither should you. She was the one who saved Arya's life when she found her broken and beaten on the side of the road. She did not know who Arya was but saw the dying girl and saved her fucking life. When Arya told her that Daario was the one who raped her, she did not know who Arya was. She wasn't choosing Arya over Daario to get closer to me or to use against me. She chose Arya because it was the right thing."

"She didn't let her lust for Daario Naharis or her shame at having been mistaken stop her from doing the right thing. She chose to execute a rapist, regardless of the fact that he had value to her both as a personal and military asset. Executing him made it more difficult to claim the throne, it causes her to experience more pain than thinking Arya a liar and believing the best of Daario. She chose to do the right thing because that is who she is. Someone who always sees beyond just herself. Someone who isn't selfish or who warps the law to fit her preferred course. She answers all injustice with justice because that is who she is. She is a good Queen, don't try to claim she isn't when you've never spoken to her.

Sansa didn't speak for a long moment although she looked like she would quite a few times. "Whatever, you say, Your Grace." She replied as she retook her chair. "Your word is the law."

Jon sighed in exasperation but less the slight slide, he still needed her to finish the report. He needed to know what else she had promised to them without the power to do so. "Tell me how you persuaded Lord Yohn and Nestor Royce to our cause."

"I merely convinced them that you were not your father or grandfather. I showed them the error in their thinking and told them that they should pledge their support to your cause?" She glanced down at her hands and refused to meet his eyes.

"That's it?" Jon asked in disbelief. "Why were they so much more willing to hear that from you than me?"

Sansa glanced up and met his eyes. "I am a Stark." Her response was short and curt as if she expected it to be the final word on the matter.

"I am too!" Jon snarled. "My mother was Lyanna Stark! The blood of the Starks flows through my veins! Why are they so much more willing to hear that from you?" Jon repeated the question.

"Perhaps it is because I am not completely mad?" She roared finally losing her cool. "Perhaps it is because I don't act like an entitled brat who everyone should kneel before and proclaim as their King for simply existing?"

"I do not!" Jon protested adamantly.

"You do!" Sansa reaffirmed. "You are behaving like Joffrey. I wanted to believe that you are different than your ancestors but you are exactly like them. You say you would give everything to defeat the others but you have nearly lost everything you could give as a result of your own arrogance!" She screamed at him. "You claim to be a good King but you are exactly like Joffrey. A cruel spoiled brat who doesn't care for anyone but himself."

Jon's hands tightened into fists at his side as he tried to stop himself from doing something he would regret. She was overstepping. He was not at all like Joffrey or his Grandfather; she was ignorant of the good that Jon was doing. She was seeing what she expected to see due to her poor experiences with royalty in the past.

Sansa's hand shot to cover her mouth when she realized what she had just said. She bowed hastily. "Forgive me, Your Grace," she apologized desperately as if she was afraid of his retaliation. "I don't know what came over me. I misspoke." She wiped the tears from her face with her sleeves. "I did not mean it."

She didn't wait for Jon to reply before practically sprinting out of the room with the door slamming shut behind her.

Jon fell back into his chair as if slapped as he watched Sansa flee from the room in tears. She had called him mad. She had accused him of being a hypocrite and a horrible King who would have lost everything due to his own hubris. He had been obviously angered at first and defended his actions but that he hadn't meant but she wasn't wrong. He knew that in his hardest of hearts. His impatience had nearly been his downfall and he had become arrogant. Her delivery might have been poor but her points were sound and scarily accurate. He had behaved like Joffrey in a lot of ways.

In hindsight, it was painfully obvious that Jon had rushed this trip to the Vale but he had no other choice. He should have spent more time preparing for these meetings and met with the Lords individually in order to assuage their concerns and offer them all some self-benefit in exchange for their support. He had gone in with a broad stroke in order to secure the loyalty of everyone as quickly as possible. Instead, he had nearly lost the loyalty of everyone.

He was racing against the clock here but he had to slow down. He might need the Iron Throne or at the very least the greatest army the world had ever known before the Others breached the wall but he would have no army if he continued to act like the mad man Sansa had angrily called him just moments ago.

Perhaps his actions had failed to paint him in the brightest of lights to anyone who observed his actions since becoming a King. Even Sansa who had wanted to believe him different from his forefathers supposedly had viewed his actions in the worst possible light. She had even compared him to Joffrey with his sense of entitlement and angry outbursts.

She wasn't entirely wrong in that comparison either. He had been acting that way, hadn't he? Jon wasn't mad but his approach had been madness. He had fallen back into the trap he had fallen into time and time again. He had acted entitled because of the circumstances of his birth- of his heritage. He had fallen into that trap time and time again at the Wall and it had lead to his death. He had expected people to fall in line because he was a Targaryen. He had expected people to believe his words because he was a King. Power only resided where the men decided it had resided and he had to make them choose him like his Daenerys's people had chosen to believe in her and they had to choose to give him power.

Jon had fear at first but it wasn't enough. It never could have been enough on its own, the Painted Dogs had shown him that much. He couldn't rely on just fear alone to subdue the masses as he had tried to. He couldn't kill any one man who defied him or risk them becoming a martyr and anchoring the convictions and beliefs of the others. Fear hurt him just as much as it helped. No one wanted to follow a tyrant or give him more power. They might pretend to but it was only a facade. No one wanted a second Mad King, and they thought him that. He would find a dagger between his shoulders once more if he continued down this path.

He needed the hearts of the people even if he didn't have the time to gain that right now from all of his people. That had been how he won the Mountain Clans and even the wildlings to his cause. Heck, that was how he got the Whitehills to his cause. Diplomacy and love inspiring loyalty was the solution there. He had wanted to wait until after the Long Night to do that but he wouldn't make it to the Long Night if he didn't get the people's trust. He was on the road to getting more daggers through his chest and as much as Jon might wish otherwise, he was still only mortal. He had no choice but to slow down and pray that the Great Other did as well or the wall delayed him long enough. The idea of the Great Other with a plan beyond just charge blindly was terrifying but it would give him the time to maybe have the army to stand against them, fear would not give one. It was either that or pray that the Great Other didn't have access to ballistae or some other method to kill his dragons.

The stress of his position had gotten to him. There was no doubt about that. He hadn't exaggerated in the slightest when he told his Daenerys that the burden of ruling seven kingdoms by himself would break any man. The burden was already breaking him and he only had to worry about three kingdoms right now. The weight of the entire world was literally resting on Jon's shoulders and he was chaffing beneath it.

Jon needed help. The debacle that the entire trip to the Vale had been made that much clear to him. He couldn't do this alone, he had known that from the beginning but he had tried to do so anyway. He hadn't allowed him himself to trust anyone but his Daenerys after what had happened last time he grew lax and trusted the wrong people. That paranoia had been a mistake.

Trusting blindly would be an even greater mistake but he had to find a happy middle. He had to trust some people. When his Daenerys arrived he would be able to trust her and her people mostly- Missandei, Grey Worm, and Ser Barristan to all stay loyal to her at the very least. He would be able to have council from those who knew what it was like to be treated as those in power. Tyrion had given him life-changing advice before, he could count on his council again. He only had a short time in all likelihood until his Daenerys was here with him although she had yet to give him an exact time. Unfortunately, he clearly could not afford to wait that long, or else he might not have a kingdom when she arrived.

As much as it pained to do so, he had to have people he could count on and could trust now. He had stacked his plate too full and taken all responsibility upon himself alone. That was not sustainable. He was breaking beneath that workload and well he knew he wasn't mad, he would become so if he did not delegate some responsibility to others. He was doing toom much on his lonesome.

He would delegate some responsibility to Sansa and let her do something. He would trust her to help him plan his approach with the Lords and how to curry their favor. He might not trust her loyalty or goodness but their desire to protect their self-interests he could trust. She had proven that at the very least in the Vale. She would be able to take on some of the responsibilities in gaining hearts with her words. He could trust Lord Manderly and Lord Umber to protect their self-interests and support him, to speak on his behalf. Even Baelish he could trust to protect his own self-interests to an extent. They were easier for the people to trust than he was. He was the unapproachable Dragon King.

That had to change. He couldn't be unapproachable any longer. He never should have been but fear and his own arrogance had made him such. He needed to go back to his roots. He might be a Targaryen dragon but he was also the bastard boy Jon Snow. He had to make friends with the common folk. He had to hear what they had to say instead of just assuming that he knew best. He had not learned from his mistakes with the Night's Watch. He couldn't remain distant from his people and be a good ruler. He might have told the Black Ears otherwise but it hadn't been true. He had failed to connect with his people and hear their requests, to be that ear willing to listen.

He should have more closely followed the example of his Daenerys in that regard. She saw petitioners every day without fail and heard what all of her people had to say and judged each one individually and fairly. Jon had yet to see petitioners once. He hadn't held court or listened to the grievances of the common man. Only the nobles had his ear at all, and even then tat was only a little. He had been too concerned with moving as quickly as possible and as a result strayed off of the path. Sansa was right he had been a horrible King. He might have preached about being better and being the people's champion but he hadn't truly been that ever.

Speed was still important but he had to slow down and be a good King, not just a King in name and through fear. He was supposed to be different from his predecessors and he hadn't been, in spite, of his claims that he would break the wheel, he had just become a part of it without thinking. It was easy to see why his father and grandfather had cracked and given in to their selfish desires. Jon had nearly followed them down that route without even noticing.

He had to appreciate the benefits of moving slow. He couldn't force the wheel to break with the snap of his fingers, even with dragons. His desired to move quickly and fervent need to do so had hindered his long term efforts. The majority of the Mountain Clans were lost to him because he hadn't taken his time. He didn't have a second chance with the Painted dogs in all likelihood. He didn't have a second chance with the Storm Crows after that failure either. When he had offered his hand in friendship to the Black Ears they had gladly taken it. The Burned Men followed him because they loved his family. The Knights of the Vale would have been lost to him as well because of his impatience if not for Sansa and Baelish's assistance.

Even his traveling by dragon the day before the meeting had been a mistake. He had missed the important part of the procession of any King traveling, the large retinue that tagged along with him. When the Usurper had visited Winterfell all those years ago to ask his uncle to be hand, he had taken months. They had stopped in every village along the way and the King had splurged and treated the people well with money he did not have. Everyone in his company feasted nightly and had only the finest of musicians. They had picked up more and more hang ons at every stop singing songs about how good King Robert was and celebrating his visit. His actions were foolish and he had been a horrid King but he had been able to garner support because the people of the Seven Kingdoms had loved him for his foolishness.

People had trusted him to be an honest man who had seemingly cared for the people and as a result been willing to kneel to him, not just because he had power although that helped. He had hundreds singing his praises when he arrived in Winterfell and while Jon had thought he hadn't looked like a King he had never doubted that he was one. He had never thought he was mad or a bad King in spite of his questionable actions and how he had laughed at the sight of his dead siblings. Jon had been wrong on that account but he and everyone else in Winterfell had thought that way because of his traveling party singing his praises. Jon did not have that, he had only himself to herald him as good and the word of Sansa- his hand and sister. Obviously biased sources who would easily have their opinions dismissed by the common man. He did not do anything to foster goodwill, and the only ones really singing his praises to the commonfolk were the wildlings who the North didn't care for the opinions of.

Actions spoke louder than words and while Jon had talked the talk he had yet to really walk the walk. That would have to change, he would not be like his father or his grandfather and choose his selfish or even selfless desires over what he knew to be right. He couldn't compromise to the extent that he sacrificed his humanity. The Others had to be stopped but that wasn't the only reason Jon and more so Daenerys wanted to rule. That might be his focus but that wasn't his everything. His goals were more than that. He did believe in breaking the wheel, a free and equal world for all men and women. He just had to remember to live it and not just proclaim it broken.

It was too late to postpone the meeting with the Riverlords now but that didn't mean he had to handle things the same way. He would diligently prepare for this one. He would take others with him to the Riverlands and he would approach the Lords when they arrived and treat with them and the common folk as equals. He would hear what they desired and why- not just tell them how it would be. He would learn from his mistakes this time.

Tomorrow he would hold court for the first time and see petitioners. He would hear out the common folk and make his peace with them. He needed to remember where he came from. He would eat among them and make friends with them rather than eat in his quarters alone as he had been. He would show that he wasn't the unapproachable Dragon King they thought him to be but a man just like them. He would show them he was not mad rather than just insisting that he was not mad. Sansa had been blunt with him but he had needed it and he was grateful for it. Things had to change for him to stop the Long Night and that was the goal still but not the only end he had in mind. He had to remember that there was a life after the Long Night, one that only would be there if he slowed down. The first chapter of his reign had been an ugly one but it was the first chapter, not the epilogue. The time had come for a change in the world, and that change had to start with him if anything would ever truly change.

* * *

**Very Long Authors Note/Character Dissection**

I feel the need to make one thing abundantly clear. Jon is going to make mistakes. No one is born as a perfect leader. That is something George RR Martin has done a great job showcasing in the books. Daenerys fumbles around when she first becomes Khaleesi and her handling of Astapor, Yunkai, and even Meereen show her naivety at first. She learns from her experiences but she doesn't start as a complete badass and perfect Queen. Ned Stark is a terrible Hand of the King and it costs him his life. Robert Baratheon is a horrible King who doesn't learn to play the game and dies for it. Robb Stark is a poor King and he dies because of it. Cersei is a horrible regent for Tommen and that might wind up costing her her life as well. Jon is a subpar Lord Commander and dies because of it. The only POV character who hasn't been a completely terrible leader at first was Tyrion and even he made plenty of terrible mistakes at the start. Ruling is hard and you have to fail in order to succeed in the long term. As much as we might want Jon to instantly be the best player at the game and make everyone else look foolish by comparison that is not at all realistic.

Jon has no experience ruling anything even close to the magnitude of the Seven Kingdoms. His only experience prior to being crowned King was as Lord Commander which again he failed miserably at. As Lord Commander his closest thing to playing at politics is him sending Sam and Mance's babe to the citadel. He is going to make mistakes at the start of his reign, he will learn from them but that takes time and for him to realize where he made a mistake. He did not have that chance to learn with his hyper-aggressive approach to the North as they wanted him on the throne beforehand, not just out of fear. He fucked up that meeting almost as bad as the one with the Lords of the Vale but his mistakes didn't cost him anything so he didn't notice them. Everything to this point had been handed to him on a silver platter. He worried about needing an army to somehow defeat the Others- died and had the key to victory dropped in his hands when he awoke as Rhaegal. Daenerys instantly believed him about the Others. The Free Folk instantly agreed to fight for him. The Night's Watch knelt to him with little effort. Rickon was dropped right into his lap. The Whitehill's betrayal was shown to him before he knew they were coming. The Boltons and Lannisters dropped dead like flies at his command. Edmure Tully hailed him as his King even in the face of death. The North proudly hailed him as their King and agreed to his laws. As I hinted at with his letter to Daenerys, Jon had started to feel that this his destiny because of how easy everything had come for him. The Vale was his reality check that destiny alone wasn't enough, and that he had to learn and grow. He had to fail to learn that he needed to do more than he had been.

He does things through fear because it had worked so far and it was quick and efficient- the things he had prioritized in his campaign above all else to this point. The Burned men give him a taste of the alternative, of being friends with his men which he hadn't let himself be in the past. He indulges in that sample with the Black Ears where he learns that there is a better way. Ned Stark was a part of the wheel, he wasn't the friends of his bannerman or the champion of the common folk and it shaped the way Jon leads. He pushes the men of the Night's Watch away from him when made Lord Commander since Ned says that he can't be friends with his bannermen but has to be their lord. He died, likely because of it so Jon decides to change and he does when it comes to the commanders and the people that have actual power over him kind of but he never fully commits to it. He never fully relinquishes power or meets with anyone other than Tormund as anything other than someone under his command who he'll put up a cordial front with. The Burned Men show him that he can be loved while still gaining their loyalty and support, possibly in a more efficient way than his old methods. It's a way he enjoys more than scaring them into fighting for him and like a man in the desert after being given water, he never wants to go thirsty again. If this is available it's hard to go back to just being feared.

Jon canonically is a horrible leader every time he is put in the position- particularly in the show. We never see him actually lead the North, the closest thing to that is when he leads them into battle and completely discards their plan and risks their safety to run at Rickon- I'm not saying it was the wrong decision or that he should have done differently but that was tactically stupid. When he is given no choice but to be crowned as King in the North he never spends time actually ruling his people. His focus is always solely dedicated to the Others. Rightfully so perhaps, but he never hears the needs of the people and tries to bridge the gap between them. He ignores the wants of his people to focus on his own desires. He doesn't hear the common folk out or even the Lords, he just does his own thing. Then he goes off to Dragonstone and essentially abandons them under the care of Sansa to pursue his desires. His desires are completely selfless but he's still prioritizing his wants over theirs and refusing to heed them any council. He gives up his crown not just because he wants to bang her or even because she saved his life. He kneels because he recognizes when she agrees to fight in his war for people who refuse to follow her that she is a better leader than him. He recognizes that she cares for the good of the common man, and it's more than just a crown for her. He sees she cares for the people beyond them as her subjects. If she had refused his offer of his crown or if she had proposed a marriage alliance, etc. Jon would likely have become a better leader inspired by her and in her example but to him the simplest decision was always to give the power to the one who knew how to handle it. It was less because he didn't want it but more because he didn't feel like he was capable of using it correctly considering his past blunders and upbringing that completely shattered his self confidence and self worth. That is the jumping off place for Jon's leadership capabilities in this story. He has her example, yes but he hasn't actually seen her rule, he just has stories and conversations about subduing the Harpies where her example comes across as a thin layer of diplomacy on top of the underlying fear that actually cows them.

This was his epiphany moment; just like Daenerys's canonically had her be a ruler not a conqueror one when Astapor and Meereen fell. It's what prompted her to slow down and learn to rule before expanding her Kingdom. It's where the priority stopped being reclaiming her throne and became making people's lives better. This is that for Jon, the goal is no longer to assemble an army to defeat the Others but to be a good ruler who makes people's lives better not worse. She didn't become a perfect Queen immediately after that but she started making an effort to actually get better.

Jon in the books has had an elitist attitude on multiple occasions. When he shows up at the wall, he shows up the other kids due to his noble upbringing in spite of his bastard status. He believes himself better than they are. When he is named a steward that same snobbish attitude rears his head and he acts entitled to being a Ranger. Jon shakes those mindsets off when his mistakes are pointed out to him but he does fall into that pitfall. When he is named Lord Commander he distances himself from everyone and falls right back into that trap of believing himself separate from the rest of the Watch. His sense of entitlement isn't a conscious choice but a systematic thing due to his privileged upbringing. Just as with systematic racism in the real world, he can not choose to just turn off the mindset that has been ingrained in his mind, he can try to oppose it but it takes time for minds to change and he will stumble and relapse at times. Development is never a linear process despite how fiction often portrays it. For every two steps forward there will be a step back.

Jon's mental state will fluctuate a lot because that is a completely normal thing to have happen. One action does not make you mad. People get stressed out and have no control of their temper over things as small as having too much homework in the real world. People act irrationally when desperate in the real world. Unless you are a sociopath, you do not have perfect control of your emotions. Madness is in most instances, a temporary state of mind that one can revert back from. It is not a character trait. Jon will have moments where he loses control because he is a human and that is a normal human thing. His being a King does not mean that he is immune to stress if anything he is more prone to it.

Jon quite literally believes he has the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. He was brought back from the dead and immediately proclaimed as the prophesied savior to defeat the Great Other who is a threat to end all of life itself. Jon is also trying to rule the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms by himself due to his inability to trust anyone. That is going to take a toll on anyone. He is also dealing with the mental baggage of having been murdered by men that he trusted. Then there is the fact that his sister is telling him it's his fault she was raped. Even the calmest of men would crack under the weight of that burden. Jon is a character who canonically has serious anger issues that get him into trouble constantly. He literally tries to murder Thorne knowing the consequences for calling him a traitors' bastard. There will be lapses in control and there will be times he whines like a toddler because everyone does that and I refuse to make Jon a perfect character with no flaws. Jon won't burn down Kings Landing or anything but he will lose control and not be sane in every moment. There is a reason power corrupts, and Jon is not immune to that in spite of his good heart. He is just as prone to emotional outbursts than anyone. What is important is how he feels about his actions once removed from the situation, that is what defines who he is. (And why the finale could have been so much better if they added one " _what have I done"_ line from Daenerys mumbled to herself after she had done the deed and then a _If I look back I am lost_ in order to explain her having the same exact conversation with Jon in the throne room. )

I don't want to spoil the exact reasoning for the extreme paranoia beyond the obvious he was murdered thing but there are reasons. There are psychological triggers, events, and feelings that do tend to lead to extreme paranoia in the real world beyond the blanket madness definition. His increase in paranoia has been tied to other events behind the scenes each time. He will eventually start to heal and not be paranoid but that takes time and him accepting help. That is one thing that George RR Martin kind of glosses over in cannon. Joffrey probably could have learned to not be a shit King had Tyrion tried instead of condemning him as a monster. Poor mental health is not permanent. It's okay to not be okay as long as you are aspiring to be okay and making progress towards that goal. This chapter is the first step in that direction for Jon.

Jon has a tendency in cannon to ignore his flaws and mistakes until they are bluntly laid out before him. He can notice his flaws in retrospect but not the present. Donal Noye calls him out on being a bully, Sam calls him out on his entitlement, Grenn stops him from going off to join Rob and abandon the watch. Jon is great at observing other people but when it comes to himself he's blind most of the time. That isn't necessarily a terrible thing as long as he has people close by who will call him out on his mistakes but right now he doesn't so it's a glaring weakness. Jon doesn't look for his own madness and notice that mistake before now because he has no reason to think himself mad, just like Daenerys didn't until she met Ser Barristan. Jon knows that Targaryens have gone mad but because of his interactions with Aemon and Daenerys he believed it to be a myth and not an issue he has to worry about. Now that he has realized the possibility of his madness he will be checking himself and making sure that what he is doing is sane much more often and forcefully tempering himself rather than being an unrestrained dragon.

Jon feels indebted to the Starks and canonically his own upbringing is horrid. Jon is deprived of affection of any sort- probably why he falls in love with Ygritte after she literally rapes him. He is raised by the Starks to be less than his siblings and to serve them. Jon might have been born to rule but he lived more as a servant. He is overly loyal to his family and even after learning who he really is feels indebted to them and feels the need to prove he is not just another usurping bastard. To prove that Catelyn Tully was wrong about him. He already stole Sansa's place as Robbs' heir which might have been his will but he does feel some guilt about usurping her because he was raised to feel they were above him. That their needs come first above his own. He blames himself for what happened to Arya because he could have theoretically done something and it makes him feel like the selfish bastard Catelyn always claimed he was to have done nothing for her. He does value having the love of anyone much like Daenerys does because they were deprived of love growing up- her to a much greater extent than him but they crave affection and love because of where they come from. This is why you see him open himself up so much to the Burned Men and feel safe among them. He latches onto the affection of others because he's been starved for it even if he doesn't consciously recognize that fact all the time. It's part of why he slips in his urgency to stop the Long Night in favor of having the people's love. Could he soldier on through the whispers of madness and stop the Long Night first? Maybe but he doesn't want to at all.

I only show what the POV character thinks they feel and not what they actually feel deep down. Jon still is happy he became Rhaegal in spite of how it led to Arya's suffering in his mind so he misjudges that to mean he would take that trade again, it's a very similar thought process as survivors guilt. If it came down to meeting Rhaegal and Daenerys sooner or Arya being raped he almost certainly would actually choose to save Arya but the fact that a small part of him feels otherwise means that his mind exaggerates that small part and narrows in on it. The Arya chapters will dive deep into the feelings beyond the feelings as she will be in denial with her innerself and creating other rationalizations than what she feels deep down because real people don't understand their own emotions perfectly. That is perfectly normal and okay.

Hopefully, this clears up some of the confusion about Jon's mental state that people had been commenting, and concerns people had about the direction I was taking the character. I promise I have a plan for his character development and that he won't be the mindless drone that he is in the later seasons of the show. He isn't incompetent he's just inexperienced and stressed beyond belief. My goal with this story is to accurately portray the ugly and grittier side of humanity. I want characters to progress in logical manners and not just steamroll everything. With the exception of romance, because I can't write that at all, I would rather have a realistic portrayal and flawed characters over likable ones who rise up to any challenge and are near flawless. If you don't want that then there are thousands of fanfics out there that should be more to your liking. You are not forced to read (and bash) this one. I know that I'm hardly the best writer out there and I won't pretend to be but I'm doing my best to write real people. Sometimes their interactions will feel awkward and interactions might be lacking in flavor. I'll improve by writing more but there are scenes that really don't read well and even make me cringe. If you don't want to read it you don't have to. This is more so a story of his and Daenerys discovering themselves and how to lead and look out for the interests of others above even themselves. This isn't just Jon's quest to defeat the Others or their journey to reclaim their families' throne but to truly break the wheel and reform a better society.

Yes I am aware that the Black Ears don't actually kill their enemies but Jon is not aware of that. He did research beforehand but considering that even Varys didn't know they don't kill their enemies it seems unlikely that the sources are at all accurate on how they behave. If the source is biased the information will be inaccurate or misleading at the very least. It was actually that scene that inspired a large part of all the misinformation that Jon has in this chapter; that and the real world history that has resurfaced recently behind why police exist at all, and what not. History is written and shared by the people in power who don't want to write anything that portrays their side in a negative light so we often dehumaninze the so called enemy or villain in our recountings of humanity. They were evil, or they got what was coming to them. The Maesters have a monopoly on the distribution of history and most knowledge in general, there is nothing to keep them in line or make sure their reccountings are accurate and show all perspectives. Tyrion knows better because he spent time with them, the Maester who wrote the book Jon used for his information, in all likelihood did not spend time as their friend, or really cared about their culture and past. He didn't get first hand accounts of what happened or their legends, he likely spoke to the Vale Lords who hate them to formulate the history.

The whole giving them free resources is obviously going to cost something but the financials should even out in time. The supply and demand is still the same just they now all go through legitimate means. Rather than everyone having a quarter of their crops and what not be stolen by Wildling Raiders, it's now sold at a discounted price to the Lord of the Vale who increases taxes slightly to counter the expenses paid on those crops. In time, the crop prices will drop with the increased taxes and the larger supply to sell. All you are doing is cutting out the violence in the middle with a short term financial loss because of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a pain to write. It was originally supposed to be two chapters but after getting enough comments about how Jon was a horrible leader, I didn't particularly want to end it without getting to the change in direction first. Most of the scenes don't feel incredibly organic and I glossed over a few scenes I probably should have fleshed out but it's something. The next chapter is the Tommen one and I only have two scenes left to write in that one so it shouldn't be too long of a wait.


	31. Tommen I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommen learns of the happenings in the North and takes countermeasures against the Targaryens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm dumb and thought I posted this a few weeks ago when I finished it at 2 AM. Apparently, I decided to leave it until morning and didn't remember that so this is really late. Oops. The next chapter should be much quicker- I'm just about done with it now. Sorry for the lengthy delay.

Chapter 31: Tommen I

"We are here to honor and remember, Queen Cersei of House Lannister. Wife of King Robert Baratheon, Mother of King Joffrey and King Tommen Baratheon." Myrcella intoned in her best impersonation of a Septon.

There was no Septon here today, no flowers, or audience filled with thousands of mourning peasants as there had been for his father's death. She was a traitor. She had committed treason by sleeping with his Uncle Jamie and committing adultery against her husband, the King. No one mourned the death of a traitor. They rejoiced in it, they danced upon his mother's grave and rejoiced in her getting what she deserved. No one mourned her passing or thought she hadn't gotten what she deserved. There was no condolences to give because her death was considered a boon.

Tommen might have been made King of the Seven Kingdoms and that meant he didn't have the freedom to do as he wanted. He wanted to lock himself in his chambers as he had when Margaery was being held captive by the High Sparrow his mother had appointed. He wanted to cry and scream about how unfair it was that she was killed for choosing to love her brother while her brother got off free on a technicality. No one technically knew that Jamie was the one who she cheated on Robert with. Lancel Lannister was the one they knew Cersei slept with, not Jamie even if they all knew it- they just refused to say it aloud.

Tommen couldn't mourn his mother as she was a traitor who was executed for crimes against what was supposedly his own father. He couldn't seek his wife's comfort because she was the reason his mother was dead. Loras had been like an older brother to him but he was the one who had killed his mother in her trial by combat.

Only Myrcella wouldn't hate him for mourning the monster who she had become before her execution. She didn't understand where Tommen was coming from, and would hate him for the anger he held towards their mother. She thought that her father and their mother-loving each other was cute and sweet, not wrong in the slightest. She didn't live in King's Landing under her Mother's iron fist and watch how everyone around them suffered for their mother's sins.

She wasn't the one who had her wife thrown in a cell and beaten until she would confess her nonexistent crimes. She wasn't the one who was tricked by their own mother into creating the Faith Militant and gave them the power to imprison his own wife. She wasn't the one who watched as his mother used his crown to control the entire realm.

Myrcella never felt the thick jolt of happiness and more so relief when he watched his mother's head roll on the floor. She had looked away before the blade had ever come down and buried her face in her husband's chest as she sobbed into his shoulder. Tommen had stared straight ahead as he had to being the King. He had wanted to vomit, to cheer, to laugh, and to cry but he had held it all in and maintained his composure. He had maintained a stoic facial expression and forced himself to feel nothing as the crowd cheered.

His mother had screamed obscenities and cursed his wife along with the seven, the Dornish, the Targaryens, Qyburn and even Jamie for abandoning her, for conspiring against her. Yet when she was made to kneel and Ser Illyn Payne had held his blade on her neck, her last words hadn't been a curse to the people responsible but one final message to her children. A soft and faint. " _I love you."_ Myrcella had never for a second looked into their mother's eyes for the last time and been unable to reciprocate the sentiment.

Tommen couldn't say he loved her because he didn't. He hated her and even wished her dead. She was a monster who had ruined his life with her selfish desires all due to Tommen's naivety. He did not love that monster and he never would. He did love the women she was before that, the kind mother who had held him on the throne when Stannis stormed King's Landing before Uncle Tywin had driven him off. He missed the loving mother who had let him stay in her bed when he had nightmares as a young child. He missed the woman who would do anything for her children. He mourned the loss of who she was then not now. The woman she was now was a monster, and he would not mourn the monster. Cersei Lannister died when Uncle Tyrion murdered Joffrey as far as Tommen was concerned.

Myrcella would never understand that, she had left for Dorne before the monstrous dwarf had killed his mother and left the creature in her skin instead. She only remembered the kind loving mother of their youth. She had heard of the atrocities that her mother committed- that she had manipulated him into committing but she had never experienced them. She wasn't the one who dealt with the guilt of every single death caused by the Faith Militant or some of his mother's other evil decrees. She never had to choose between his love or his mother.

His wife had not wanted him to be there for his mother's beheading, He had ignored her wishes, he was not the naive greenboy he had been when they first married. He knew his wife and her family were not the beautiful roses that he had previously thought them to be. They were the vine that held the rose, coated in thorns that would only hurt you. They might look beautiful and good to draw you in but they were just as deadly as any lion.

Tommen still loved his wife just despite what she had done to his mother. He knew Margary- and if not her then her grandmother was directly responsible for his mother's death. He could hardly blame them for it when he would have done the same thing. His mother had reached out her hand to pluck the rose from the vine and pricked her finger on the poisonous thorns. His wife was justified in acting against his mother after she struck first but it was still hard for him to accept it.

His wife was as manipulative as his mother. His grandmother even more so. They both cared more for the power he wielded then his person. He expected that Myrcella's husband was the same way although he said nothing about it, in fear of taking away her happiness. Ignorance was bliss. He still loved his wife in spite of it all- he couldn't help himself. She was beautiful, kind, smart, and intelligent. She loved him even if she loved being Queen more.

Olenna Tyrell had manipulated the entire trial to not only see his mother convicted, that was clear as day to Tommen. She had managed to remove Qyburn as his Master of Whispers. He had been appointed by Tommen's mother not him and he should have been replaced anyway but this wasn't Tommen's choice.

The Tyrells had seen the opportunity to grab more power for themselves and had gleefully taken it. His wife had been pressuring him to appoint Ser Gunthor Hightower to the position that Qyburn had left vacated but Tommen refused to oblige her. Ser Gunthor had arrived in the capital only a day ago at Margaery's request but Tommen still refused to bow to her demands. He already had Ser Loras Tyrell as his Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Lord Mace Tyrell as his master of coin, Lord Paxter Redwyne as his Master of ships, and Lord Orton Merryweather as his master of laws. All men who were more loyal to his wife and her house than to their king. He didn't want to give the Tyrells more power for organizing the death of his own mother.

Yet, if he denied their manipulations and appointed someone else to be his Master of Whispers then what was to stop them from also organizing the death of whomever he appointed? Was he only deluding himself by trying to resist the Tyrell's takeover? They had shown they were the masters at this game while Tommen was still just a greenboy. Tommen knew that objectively Joffrey was a horrible King but at least he wouldn't have fallen prey to the Tyrell's schemes. He would have taken their heads and gone to war before he allowed them to sink their claws into him.

Tommen let out a weary sigh in exasperation at the stress that had built up on his back. He hared being King. It was hard and tiresome but he didn't have the choice to refuse his mantle.

"Tommen!" Myrcella snapped at him with an irritated expression. "Are you even listening to me?"

Tommen flushed. He hadn't been, he had let his thoughts wander again. He nodded but Myrcella wasn't buying it.

"Do you even care?" She snapped at him. "Our mother is dead and I've yet to see you shed one tear for her. We are supposed to be celebrating her life and remembering her! We are supposed to mourn for our mother but you don't care! She was your mother! Why do you not care if she is dead? Has your dear Margaery corrupted you this much? Would you really turn against your own family?"

Tommen frowned. "I care about you. I care about Uncle Kevan and uncle Jamie to a lesser extent. Mother? She died alongside Joffrey as far as I'm concerned." He bit down hard on his tongue to cut off his tirade. The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. Thankfully it was only the two of them here today, as Myrcella had believed they were the only ones mourning their mother.

"How can you say that?" Myrcella roared in anger. "She was your mother! She was OUR mother! Even my husband has the decency to at least pretend to be upset about her passing for my sake. He had every reason to hate her but he was willing to set that aside for me. Why haven't you? She was your mother too."

"Damn it! Look around you Myrcella! There isn't a single person aside from you mourning the passing of our mother! Even your beloved _father_ hated her! She was a cruel monster after the death of our brother Joffrey! She was cruel to everyone, including me. She manipulated me into doing horrible things so she could gain more power! She drove MY Kingdom into desolation! For fucks sake she threw my own wife into prison because she feared she would steal me from her! She viewed us as possessions, not people! You weren't here to see how awful she was but I was. She was a monster who is better off dead." Tommen raged.

"What happened to you Tommen?" Myrcella said sadly. "You used to be the kind one who cried when one of the countless cats in the Red Keep went missing; occasionally only for even a day. You used to be the one who would always be the gentle one. Now you're acting like Joffrey. You're refusing to feel anything for the death of your own mother or to comfort your sister as you always have. I don't even recognize you anymore Tommen."

"You want to know what happened," Tommen scoffed. "Our mother happened. She forced me to grow up and see the reality of the situation before she ruined it even further. She forced me to consider jumping out my window in the night in hopes of ending my own life so she couldn't use me to further her own power and ruin the lives of thousands through me. She was the reason I was on that ledge and nearly jumped- that I would have if not for the timely intervention of Ser Loras. Do you know what it feels like to be the only one responsible for the torture of the women your love? Do you know what it is like to be afraid of your own mother? To be afraid of yourself because of her? Of course, you don't. You were living sheltered in Dorne while I was forced to be King and see the real world for what it is. Grow up Myrcella, this is no fairy tale. The world is an ugly and horrible place where everyone is only out for themselves and every man is dishonest and evil in nature."

Tommen rose to his feet in a rush and fled the room without a backward glance as he heard his sister sobbing at his words. He felt the usual pang of guilt in his chest but squashed it down. He had to remain in control or else he would end up botching things again or following the directions of evil men and women. He would not be their puppet any longer.

* * *

"Your Grace!" A serving boy shouted out to him from down the hall. Tommen frowned and set his book down. He never got a moment to himself these days. He had been trying to be better than his mother had been ruling in his plan and he hated it even more. It was a time-consuming job with no self-gratification in it. He would work all day with his little time for himself monopolized oftentimes by his own wife trying to persuade him into doing what she wanted.

He had been avoiding Myrcella since their last conversation. He had let some things slip that he hadn't intended to in front of her and said some things he didn't mean to direct towards her. He had hurt his sister with his words and he hated himself for that. Was he really any better than Joffrey had been? Was he even worth anything at all? All he seemed to do was screw up in every facet of his life. He was a sorry excuse for a person, weak-willed, stupid, and broken.

The serving boy hunched over with his hands on his knees and took deep laboring breaths. "I was told to i-inform you of an emergency council meeting. News has arrived from the North."

Tommen smiled genuinely. Myrcella would be thrilled to hear that Uncle Jamie would return soon. Tommen wasn't sure how he felt about his Uncle and possibly his father but he did know that Myrcellla had missed his presence and that Myrcella needed him to deal with her grief over their mother's death.

"Very well, inform them that I will be present shortly. They are not to start without me." Tommen ordered. He refrained from adding the again at the end of the sentence. They had done so on multiple occasions in the past. All of his council but especially his wife and prior to her passing, his mother had thought he was too stupid to be there. They were probably right but he was King, he had to be there to make decisions, albeit ones heavily derided from the advice of his council.

He rose from his chair and stretched his back before setting off towards the room where his council had already likely gathered. He was as per usual the last to arrive although this time they at least had the decency to wait to start for when Tommen had arrived.

Tommen took his seat and poured himself a glass of lemonade from the table before addressing the council. "Ser Gunthor Hightower? This is a small council meeting and I have not placed you on my small council. I apologize if one of my family members misled you." He cast a glance over to Mace Tyrell at that comment who had flushed under his scrutiny.

"Your Grace, I assure you that you can trust Ser Gunthor," Mace said rattling off excuses for his presence. "He would make a fine Master of Whispers for your Small Council, Your Grace," He finished.

"You're missing the point, my Lord good-Father," Tommen said with a frown. "He might make a splendid Master of Whispers but I did not give him that position. He is not on my Small Council and that decision is mine and mine alone make on if he will ever be on it."

"Your Grace," His Uncle Kevan butted in. "As much as I agree with the sentiment and am proud of you for refusing to back down, he is not here as your presumptive Master of Whispers. He is here because he is the one who received the report that prompted Lord Mace to call this meeting. His presence here is mandatory.

Tommen sighed. "Very well. You may share what you have to share Ser Gunthor and then you will leave us so we may discuss business plans in detail and behind privacy.

Ser Gunthor nodded in agreement although his glowing blue eyes showed his displeasure. "That sounds plenty reasonable, Your Grace."

Tommen waved his hand. "Speak then, let us get this over with. Share what you have to say now and get out."

"I've received news from the North, Your Grace." Ser Gunthor began causing Tommen's lips to twitch."I'm afraid that things went rather poorly. The Lannister and Frey armies were defeated by the bastard Targaryen."

"Surely you jest, Ser Gunthor?" Grand Maester Pycelle asked in disbelief. "There is no possible way a bastard could overcome a numbers advantage so widely skewed against him. This whole thing is completely preposterous."

Ser Gunthor shook his head morosely. "According to my sources in the North, the Targaryen bastard burnt both armies alive. A large portion of the small folk claims the bastard used a dragon to do so."

"A dragon?" Uncle Kevan asked in disbelief. "There have been no dragons in Westeros since the reign of Aegon III Targaryen."

Mace Tyrell nodded eagerly in agreement. "Clearly the bastard used wildfire and something of a similar nature and the small folk are just exaggerating his deeds because of who he claims to be."

Ser Gunthor nodded. "I would be inclined to agree but that isn't the only business the Targaryen bastard conducted. He managed to reach Riverrun within a few days of the burning field in the utmost parts of the North. From there he ordered the men to turn on the Freys and they did. He gained the fealty of Lord Tully as well according to my sources. He couldn't have been in two places at once when traveling on horseback. A dragon would explain some of the conflicting reports.

Uncle Kevan sighed. "I take it that this means the reports of Daenerys Targaryen's dragons in Essos are also true. Where else could a man of the Night's Watch procured one?"

"How in the world are we supposed to defeat a dragon?" Lord Merryweather whined. "Those haven't been slain in over a century. Aegon conquered Westeros with just his dragons and his sisters. His descendant already has three? We are all doomed."

His summary was an apt one even if it came off as him whining. Dragons were not easy creatures to kill and it was likely that Tommen's head would be joining his mother in the grave. So would his wife and sister.

His fists clenched at his side. No. He wouldn't just give in. If he had to die so be it but he would not let his wife and sister suffer for his crown. They would find a way to defeat the dragons as Dorne had before. Margaery's son would inherit his throne, not some Targaryen bastard. He was the one with the army, not the bastard or his aunt.

"Grand Maester, do you know how to kill a dragon from your studies of our history?" Tommen asked. His voice came out much clearer than he had expected it to. The sharp tone biting through the air and making the wizened old Maester flinch. He ignored the wide eyes and shocked gasps at hearing him actually speak at his council meetings. He was the King, they would have to get used to him being the King and not just the mouthpiece of his mother.

The Grand Maester's head popped up and he shook his head. "Baaah," Pycelle replied dismissively. "This whole thing is quite preposterous. There are no dragons anymore if there ever were any of them, to begin with. This is just a lie to spread fear and get you to surrender, Your Grace. I would pay it no heed." He glared at Ser Gunthor. "A proper Master of Whispers would have never even shared such a silly and impossible rumor."

Tommen frowned. Was he overreacting and just jumping at the sight of his own shadow? Why was he listening to the report of Ser Gunthor anyways? There were no dragons.

Lord Redwyne snorted. "Like we listened to Lord Varys? Last I checked he absconded with the kinslayer who murdered His Grace, and joined with the Targaryen whore in Meereen. Perhaps there was a reason for his switching sides beyond his old loyalties to the Mad King."

"It was Varys who swore to us the rumors in Essos were false!" Lord Mace Tyrell shouted as if he had some great revelation. "He was obviously lying to protect the Targaryen Queen he still had some loyalty too. I knew we never should have trusted the eunuch."

Uncle Kevan rolled his eyes at the theatrics. "And what about your loyalty Lord Tyrell?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. "Your family also stood by the side of the Mad King until after he had already been slain. If we never should have trusted the Targaryen supporting eunuch, then should we not learn from our mistakes and not trust you?"

Lord Mace's face reddened in anger. "Be careful of what you say, my Lord Hand." He cautioned. "My daughter is the Queen and will not take any insult against our house lightly." His chest puffed up like a peacock in pride.

Uncle Kevan smiled. "I mean no insult Lord Tyrell, merely pointing out the flaws in your logic. Our trust in Varys was undoubtedly misplaced but that does not mean that we were wrong to believe he would work in our best interests- if only if it meant he could retain power. We underestimated his loyalty but there was no way of knowing that it ran this deep. I do not think your family holds any lingering loyalties to the Targaryens but we were wrong once before and we could be wrong again."

Lord Mace huffed but fumed in silence at the patronizing tone.

Tommen stood to his feet. "Ser Gunthor do you have anything more you need to share with us?" He asked clearly and concisely.

He flinched back at being addressed having not expected it and shook his head in denial. "No, Your Grace," he said weakly.

Tommen nodded at the confirmation. "Very well then, Ser Gunthor Hightower I thank you for bringing this information to us but you have no place on my small council so I would have to ask you to leave us at this time."

"Your Grace!" Lord Mace protested adamantly. "I thought he was to be your Master of Whispers?"

Tommen refrained from rolling his eyes. "I never appointed him to that position, and I already have another candidate in mind for the opening." He looked back towards Ser Gunthor. "Go on, you're dismissed." He still made no move to leave his chair. Tommen's heart pounded in his chest. Was he truly so pathetic that even a random night refused to heed his commands? He knew he might not be as strong as his Grandfather or even Joffrey but he liked to pretend he was at least as frightening as a random peasant. It appeared he was not. It was as if he was just a two nameddays old child bossing around his parents. They only obliged him because he was King, not because they respected him in any way. "Don't make me have Ser Loras escort you to the dungeons." Tommen warned.

Finally, Ser Gunthor heeded his request and with a deep bow and an angry muttered 'Your Grace' departed from them. He let out a small sigh in relief as his heartbeat slowed back to normal. He had been terrified that Ser Gunthor would still refuse to accept orders from someone as weak as him. He was afraid Ser Loras would turn on him as he had turned on the Queen he was sworn to protect. He was afraid and still is afraid that Margaery would hate him for rejecting her chosen candidate.

"Lord Mace, Uncle Kevan; we can not be fighting amongst ourselves. We all want the same thing here. Mine and Margaery's child on the throne after me. If the Targaryen Bastard King is real, regardless of if he has a dragon or not- he is our enemy not each other."

Tommen cast his gaze over to Pycelle. "I know it is unlikely that the rumors of this Targaryen having dragons might seem unlikely to be true but we will prepare as if it is a certainty that they are. The Dornish killed a dragon, we need to learn how and replicate it immediately. I will not see the work of my father undone after only a few years. He fought his whole life to liberate Westeros from the Targaryen rule and I will not let his life have been in vain. Be it against dragons, or against the Northern army. We will win this war and let the throne remain in the hands of the Baratheons for generations to come."

"Lord Merryweather, reach out to the Great Lords in my Kingdoms and find out whether they stand with the Baratheons or Targaryens in the war that is sure to come. We must know if we have the numbers before we try to take on a dragon." Tommen ordered firmly. In truth, he had no idea what he was ordering he had just thought it seemed logical to have a census so they knew what they were working with. He needed men and he needed to know how many he already had. Perhaps he was just commanding them to do their jobs but he was commanding them to do something. He wouldn't let others run his Kingdom for him into ruin once more as his mother had already done. If his kingdom fell it would be by his verdict this time.

"Lord Redwyne, you are my master of ships, I need a status report of the royal navy and how many ships we have available to us as well as those available to our enemy. Ships will be invaluable to us in the war." Ships were important in wars right? Stannis had used them when he attacked the capital a few years ago. What else was he supposed to ask his master of ships to do?

"Grand Maester, I need you to find exactly how the Dornish defeated Meraxes so we can replicate their feat. I don't care if you believe the Targaryen has dragons or not. If there is even a slight chance that the report of his dragon is true we have to be prepared to kill them lest we be caught off guard and lose the war."

"Lord Tyrell, I wish for you to rally the troops at Highgarden and prepare for a war. Cut off the food supply of the North in a pre-emptive move against the Targaryen bastard. Let's make his men go hungry so they die easier, force the Targaryens to give in. Dragons must eat a lot so starve it."

"Unc-Lord Kevan, I would ask that you reach out to the Dornish. Our houses are bound together in marriage and they have every reason to hate the bastard born from the loins of Lyanna Stark. They are our natural ally. Ask them to pledge us their support. Ask them for advice on how to kill a dragon."

"Actually, on second thoughts, don't just reach out to the Dornish. Contact Lord Euron Greyjoy, Lord Walder Frey, and Lord Petyr Baelish as well. Find out if they are with us or against us in this war and how many men each can pledge to support us. If they will not stand with us they will be stripped of their title as Lord Paramount in favor of another house willing to lend us their aid." Tommen ordered with false bravado.

This made sense right? Lyanna Stark had been stolen from his father by Rhaegar Targaryen as his father had always bemoaned. The Dornish considered the inverse true with Lyanna stealing Rhaegar. Neither side should hold anything other than animosity for the bastard of their union. Right? Perhaps he was just making a fool of himself with his orders and it would have been better for him to simply remain silent as Uncle Kevan took control.

Once it became clear Tommen was done speaking, Uncle Kevan piped in. "All very sensible solutions, Your Grace, but if I may make a suggestion; perhaps it would be prudent to also reach out to the High Septon."

Tommen frowned at the mention of the man who had murdered his mother and imprisoned his wife. "Go on." He didn't want to ever deal with that vile person ever again after what he had done.

"The High Septon is beholden to you for the return of the faith militant and no doubt doesn't want a Northerner who keeps the Old Gods on the throne. The faith militant is an armed force who will not be persuaded to abandon the cause for power. He is offering us thousands of soldiers at no expense to us we have not already paid."

"More so, the High Septon holds a position of influence on the minds of the people of the Seven Kingdoms. People listen to what he has to say because he speaks on the behalf of the gods. When he villanizes the Targaryen bastard as unholy and the second coming of the Mad King people will listen to him more than even the King himself. The Targaryen might see his prospective allies reject him on the words of the High Septon. Having him as an ally is paramount to our success."

Tommen nodded. "I trust that you will arrange that Lord Kevan?" It sounded like a reasonable idea, as long as Tommen didn't have to be there for the meeting he was fine with it.

Uncle Kevan nodded. "If you wish it so, Your Grace."

"See to it then," Tommen said curtly. "If no one has anything else to add, perhaps it is time we call this council meeting to a close?

There were a few quiet nods in agreement. "Then I call this meeting of the Small Council to a close. You have your tasks, do them before we meet again."

The Small Council quietly filed out of the room leaving Tommen alone with only his Uncle Kevan choosing to linger behind. Tommen wrung his hands nervously as he waited for the inevitable chewing out by his Uncle for taking control and ruining things. He had overstepped. Who did he think he was to rule the Kingdom? He wasn't clever or strong but a weak fool.

"I'll admit I wasn't expecting you to take control of the meeting like that, Your Grace," Uncle Kevan said with a warm smile. "You did well."

"I did?" Tommen asked with some anxiety.

Kevan nodded. "Truly, you handled yourself with aplomb." He gently put a hand on Tommen's shoulder. "Your uncle would be proud."

"Really?" Tommen asked floored at the response. There was no need to ask what uncle he was speaking of. "Uncle Tywin told me a good King always listens to his advisors." He said quietly. He had done the opposite of that by taking control.

Uncle Kevan nodded. "Aye. A good King does listen to his advisors. A good King also doesn't let all of his advisors make all of his decisions for him." He explained. "A good King listens to his advisors' advice and then makes his own decisions based on the information and all of the opinions they show to him. A good King rules and leads, they don't listen and meekly follow."

* * *

Tommen pounded on the double doors barricading his entrance to Myrcella's chambers. "May I come in?" He asked. He received no answer in response. He didn't want to tell her this, he knew it would make her hate him more but she deserved to know. She had to know this immediately from him, he couldn't keep this from her. It wouldn't be right.

"Myrcella please, it's urgent!" He shouted out. Once again the only reply was silence.

"It's about Uncle Jam- your father," He corrected himself knowing how she felt about his refusal to accept him.

The door slowly creaked up as an obviously upset Myrcella poked her head out. "What do you want?" She snapped.

Tommen wrung his hands nervously. "I have news I need to share with you. Might I come in?"

She pulled the door open and turned away from him. "Fine but make it quick."

She took a seat on the love seat with Tommen taking one next to her. She scooted away from him to the far end of the couch."

Tommen sighed and reached out to grab her hand. "We've received word from the far North. The Targaryen bastard is no pretender."

Myrcella shook her head in denial with tears sprouting up in the corner of her eyes. "He won right? Father is coming home?"

Tommen closed his eyes and squeezed her hand. "The Targaryen bastard has a dragon. He defeated the Bolton and Lannister armies at Last Hearth." He said emotionlessly as he gave the report blankly.

Myrcella's head curled into Tommen's chest as she sobbed. Tommen held her in support and wrapped his arms around her in an attempt to provide her with some comfort. "An-and Father?" She asked with shaky breaths as she pulled away for a moment to look into his eyes.

Tommen sighed and rubbed circles on her back. "His whereabouts are still unknown. It's likely that he perished with the rest of both armies."

She only sobbed harder at that as she tightly fisted her hands in Tommen's robe, clutching onto him tightly. Tommen just held her as she cried to comfort her in her grief.

She pulled away from him abruptly as if she had just been burned. "This is your fault!" She accused, furious.

Tommen flinched back at her tone. "You sent him there!" She raged. "If you hadn't sent him away then he would be safe at Casterly Rock! He would still be- he would still be… alive."

She was right wasn't she? It was Tommen's poor decision that had lead to him being there. Sure, his mother had suggested it but he had made the decision. He had told her no then had gone through with it regardless because he selfishly wanted his sister here with him. His decision had led to the death of his Uncle Jamie. His Fath- his Uncle Jamie.

Who was he kidding he wasn't capable of making good decisions or being a good leader. His decisions just led to people dying and everyone hating him. His decisions had led to the death of his mother and the imprisonment of his wife. His handling of the council meeting would probably lead to the death of his wife and sister when the Targaryen bastard stole the throne from him and executed him and all his kin. He was better off just letting his council make decisions for him. He was a stupid naive idiot who was a horrible leader and an ever worse brother.

"I-I didn't mean for this to happen-" He tried to defend himself in vain.

"Get out! Get out!" Myrcella screeched at him. "I never want to see you again!"

Tommen rose to his feet unsteadily and fled the sobbing Myrcella. He was a horrible awful person. Even his own sister hated him. His wife only wanted him for power. His mother was dead and his Uncle likely was as well. No one loved him. No one wanted him around. Perhaps he was better off dead.

* * *

"How did the council meeting go?" Margaery asked with a raised eyebrow from their shared bed as Tommen finally returned to their chambers. "I heard there was an emergency one, although Loras refused to divulge what happened to me."

Tommen bit his lip to stop himself from snorting in disbelief as he took off his crown and set it on the bedside table. He very much doubted that she wasn't aware of it and was just pretending to be unaware. He sat on the edge of their shared bed.

"It was fine," He said dismissively. He didn't want to talk about it again. He didn't want to think about his responsibility for the death of his Uncle Jamie. He didn't want to remember that his sister hated him. He just wanted to go to bed.

His wife crawled across the bed and draped herself around his shoulders. "That bad, huh?" She asked knowingly. She rested her chin on his shoulder as left hand rubbed circles on his thigh. "Is there anything your wife could do to help?"

Tommen's heart thudded in his chest. _Your wife._ He loved to hear that- especially from her lips. She was his. Not Joffrey's, not mother's but his wife. He loved her so much.

Her teeth bit down on his earlobe and Tommen groaned. "Is this helping, my dear husband?" She whispered seductively in his ear. Her hand drifted farther up his thigh to his growing erection and she rubbed at it through his pants. "How about this?"

Tommen turned his head towards her and eagerly captured her lips with his own. He kissed her hard and deep before she pulled away to take a breath. Tommen dove back in and slammed his lips onto hers. _By the gods, he loved her so much._

Each kiss was deeper than the last as he desperately sought the comfort of his wife. Her fingers grappled with his belt yanking it off with one hand as her other hand roamed his broad chest. Tommen was not idle either as he yanked her gown off of her shoulders and it pooled around her waist.

She pushed away from him and sunk to her knees on the bed a few paces away. She bent over leaving her bubbly ass sticking up in the air as her head hovered over his groin. She shook her hips to tease him before taking hold of his cock. Tommen leaned back as her elbows came to rest between his legs.

She stroked his length sensually. "Do you like this, my love?" She asked with a wide grin as she pumped his penis to full mast.

"Yes!" He moaned loudly as he thrust his hips into her closed fist. "By the gods yes!"

Margaery frowned, let go of his cock and looked away from his groin to find his eyes. "Does that mean you don't want me to do this?" She stuck out her tongue and licked his cock from the base to the tip before pulling away and finding his eyes once more as her hand resumed its stroking of his length.

"Gods!" He moaned in pleasure. "Margaery please." He begged.

She pouted and pulled away from him then crawled towards him. She hovered over him on her hands and knees. Her sizeable breasts dangling above his face. "Does that mean you don't want me to suck your cock?" She asked and then chewed on her bottom lip as if nervous.

Tommen eagerly reached up and kneaded her right breast as his lips clenched around her left nipple. Nibbling on the hardened skin. He sucked hard causing her to moan in reply. "Oh my love!" She cried out passionately.

Tommen's left hand slide down her side to cup her glorious behind as he pulled her down on top of him. She let out a slight squeal in protest as she fell. Tommen continued to chew on her breasts and her protests died as they turned into moans.

Her hips slammed into his erection with a loud thwap as her moist folds slid over his hardness but without any penetration. She pulled her breasts away from him as she abruptly sat up. She ground her hips into his groin. "Is that it? Do you want me to ride you instead?"

"Yes! Damn it!" He groaned. "Please!"

She lifted her hips and reached down to grab his dick in her hand. She guided just the tip into her entrance. "You like this?" She teased. "Is this what you want?" Her hips hovered just out of the reach of his thrusting hips so he couldn't fully sheathe himself inside of her.

"No!" Tommen shouted in frustration.

She made to pull off of him to tease him some more but Tommen wasn't having any of it. His hands clenched around her hips and he slammed her down into his own upwards thrust.

Her lips shot open in an O shape as he sheathed himself fully inside of her. She let out a loud moan of pleasure in response to his movements.

Tommen quickly sat up on the bed so he could better control his thrusts, his hands wrapping around her back as he continued to thrust his hips back into hers.

"Oh!" She cried out. "Oh Tommen!"

Tommen merely grunted in reply as he continued to thrust his hips deeper into her snatch. Her inner walls tightly squeezed his cock as he fucked his wife. He knew he wouldn't last much longer at this point.

His wife let out one final scream "Tommen!" She moaned as she came around his thrusting cock. Her orgasm triggered his own as he came at full hilt in her gushing vagina. He grunted as he released his seed into her.

They flopped back onto the bed, breathing heavily in exhaustion from their passionate bout of lovemaking. Their legs were tangled together and his arms remained around her as he cradled his wife to his chest.

"Did that make your day any better?" His wonderful wife asked once she had caught her breath.

Tommed grinned and kissed her tenderly. "Just seeing your face makes my day better. Having you in my bed makes it perfect."

Margaery blushed at the compliment. "I echo the sentiment, my Love. We are truly blessed to have each other."

Tommen didn't reply and instead opted to cradle her head to his chest. This was what Tommen live for. Margaery's happiness and Myrcella's joy. This was why he wouldn't give up the throne he didn't really want and was horrible at holding. He would never give this up, he would sooner die than lose her. He loved her so much.

She was the one who broke the silence once more. "Are you ready to talk about your day now that I've relieved some of the tension from you?" She asked softly. "If you don't want to tell me, I won't try to force you to but I've found that talking about it can help."

Tommen let out a weary sigh and extracted himself from her as he stood to his feet. "You're going to want something to drink, this is rather err- concerning news." He slid his pants back up his legs, Tommen plopped himself down in one of the cushioned armchairs as he exhaled in exasperation.

Margaery slid out of the bed gracefully. Was anything she ever did not graceful. She could make even the most mundane things beautiful and even things that should disgust him he still felt his blood going south from when she did them. She was perfection incarnate, the maiden in the flesh and she was his.

She slipped on a loose robe and took a seat at another cushioned chair across from Tommen. "Megga!" She called out.

The double doors swung open and her handmaiden stepped into the room. "You called for me, Your Grace?" She asked.

Margaery waved her aside. "Be a dear, Megga, and pour us some wine, please," She requested politely.

Megga bowed. "At once, Your Grace,"

She walked over to the cupboards they kept in their chambers stocked with wines for any occasion that called for it. They were mostly just leftover from when his drunkard of a father had been King. He had always wanted the opportunity to get sloshed whenever he pleased.

When she had set the goblets in front of them, Tommen immediately took a long swig from his. "We received news from the North of the self-proclaimed Targaryen King."

Margaery looked stunned at that although it might have been an act. "How did the Boltons manage to lose that battle? Did they not have the numbers advantage before you sent them Lord Jamie and his army?" She asked in disbelief.

Tommen supposed it was only natural that she realized the Targaryen bastard had won since otherwise it wouldn't have put him in such a foul mood. "The Boltons might have had the numbers but apparently the Targaryen had a dragon."

"A dragon?" Margery laughed deliriously. "Surely, you jest." She pleaded desperately.

"I wish I was," Tommen replied somberly.

Margaery rose from her armchair and began to pace back and forth. "How do we manage to defeat a dragon?" She wondered aloud.

"I've given the Grand Maester, Pycelle the responsibility of researching how dragons have been killed in the past in hopes of replicating those feats. Even with the North and the Tullys likely backing his claim to the Iron Throne; and even with whatever troops Daenerys Targaryen has in Meereen, we should still hold the numbers advantage here. We just have to kill his dragons first. Hopefully, Pycelle will find something we can use."

"That's not the issue!" Margaery snapped back. "The question isn't if we can kill a dragon, it's how we can stop it from killing us!"

"Err-uh…" Tommen muttered incoherently. "I'm not sure that I get it. Are those not the same thing?"

Margaery scowled at him for the first time since she returned from her imprisonment at the hands of the High Septon. "Not at all. Dragons can fly- that is the issue here."

"And?" He prodded still completely lost as to what she was saying.

"A dragon can attack you instantly when you are at the most vulnerable. He could take out every supply train before it could ever reach you. He can take out your entire army when it is in transit and at it's most vulnerable. Even if you build the dragon killers that the Dornish used previously, you are still vulnerable while traveling. You can't lug giant constructs around with you pulled on horseback while keeping them manned and ready to be deployed against a dragon the second it arrives. He could defeat your army at any moment without losing a single man of his own. How do we stop him from killing all of our armies the moment they leave these walls?"

Tommen didn't have the words to answer her query. "I don't know," Tommen said quietly. "I never thought about that- I was too stupid to consider it. Heck, even my entire small council wasn't as wise as you to notice that deficiency and address it."

He beamed at his wife with pride. "You are more intelligent than me, and my entire council for considering that. I don't have an answer for you yet so come with me tomorrow and ask it in front of my entire small council. Discuss with them how we can win this war, your input is obviously going to be very highly valued."

Margaery's scowl fell away from her beautiful visage as she grinned at his proclamation and her cheeks flushed red. She quickly turned her gaze to the floor, unwilling to meet Tommen's eyes. "I'm flattered Tommen, but it wouldn't be proper." She sighed. "A woman has no place in a meeting of the small council."

Tommen rose to his feet and wrapped his arms around her. "Nonsense," he reassured her as he rubbed her shoulders. "My mo- the former Queen Mother sat in on council meetings on many occasions. As the active Queen, you will have a place as well."

"Your council won't like it," Margaery warned him.

Tommen scoffed at that notion. "They don't have to like it. Let me deal with them, don't worry over nothing. I am their King and If I say you have a place then you have a place; their opinions on the matter is completely irrelevant in this regard." He replied with false bravado.

Margaery shifted and glanced up towards him. "Well, if you insist then I would be honored to accept your offer.

Tommen grinned like a loon, at her agreement, He knew that his council would hate the decision- his hand and uncle Kevan the most of all but she truly did belong there. She was intelligent, good, and resourceful. She would help them win this war. They would see that she deserved to be their Queen and was a better ruler than he ever was. She was the monarch the seven kingdoms needed not him.

She extracted herself from his arms and retook her seat as Tommen did the same. "How many men survived the battle in the North?" She asked urgently.

"We don't know yet. Likely all of them. I sent them to their deaths- I killed Myrcella's father because I selfishly wanted her here." Tommen admitted quietly as tears leaked out of his eyes. "Myrcella hates me for it. I'm a failure," he whispered. "I'm not fit to be King."

"Hey now, don't say that about yourself Tommen," She spoke softly as she rested a hand on his kneecap. "You might not be perfect but together we can do anything. Maybe you aren't fit to be a King but we are fit to rule together. You might make poor decisions, but I'll be there for you to make the right ones for you."

"You didn't choose to have your soldiers massacred by a mad Targaryen. It is not your fault your Uncle Jamie is likely dead. The fault lies solely on the shoulders of Jon Snow. If your sister isn't willing to see that then you don't need her anyway. You have me. You always will have me That is all we really need. We don't need anyone else, not our families, and not your council. Just you and me against the world." Margaery said passionately.

Tommen wiped his damp face to clear it of the tears. He reached out taking her hand and interlaced their fingers with each other. "You and me against the world?" He asked with a weak smile filled with hope.

Margaery pressed her lips to his tenderly before pulling away and resting her forehead against his. "You and me against the world," she echoed.

* * *

"What is she doing here?" Uncle Kevan asked with thinly veiled disgust as he and Margaery entered the chamber for the small council meeting. "The Queen does not have a place on the small council," he reminded Tommen with a firm frown.

"She is here because I invited her to come- to this meeting and all future meetings. She is the Queen, this Kingdom is as much hers as it is mine. She has a right to help rule it if she chooses to exercise it." Tommen said firmly. His voice was unwavering and left no room to refute him. It was an order from their king, not a request that they silence their protests against her presence.

Uncle Kevan looked displeased with his decision but did not protest it anymore. He understood why his uncle was so upset over it. Only a few days he had congratulated Tommen on taking control and not bending to the Tyrells will. He was now letting another Tyrell on his council.

But Margaery wasn't like the rest of her family. She was kind and clever. She was a wonderful leader- far better than he was. She loved him and he loved her in return. She might use him sometimes to take control but her intentions were always good and she did it out of a place of love.

Tommen cleared his throat. "Now that we are all present, we have business we need to discuss. When we last met, I gave you all tasks to carry out. I do not expect all of them to have immediately been completed but I do expect an update on your progress in them. We will start with you Grand Maester. Have you found a way to kill a dragon?"

The Grand Maester stroked his beard. "Although I still find this entire exercise needless, I can confirm that they are killable. The Dornish defeated them using a mix of poisons primarily composed of manticore venom that they coated the bolts of their ballistae with. Ballistae have proven capable of penetrating the dragon's scales in mythos. The Dornish used a less accurate form of the standard ballistae so their bolts had enough speed to pierce the dragon's hide when it was flying high above them. The walls of Kings Landing should still have the modified ballistae on top of them after Aegon III had them built in fear of dragons." He explained.

"Manticore venom?" Lord Mace Tyrell scoffed in disbelief. "I find that very hard to believe. Manticore venom costs a fortune for only a small dose, to coat all of their ballistae bolts in the substance is nigh impossible even for the vast wealth of House Tyrell. The Martells could never afford it." Lord Mace said arrogantly, their hatred for the Martells was well done and it was likely influencing his opinion of their finances somewhat.

"The Martells are a rich house, Lord Mace but you are right to say that it is doubtful they could afford all of the venom required on their own." Uncle Kevan replied evenly. "They would not be on their own, however, they would not be on their own but likely pooling their resources with all the people of Dorne in an effort to stop the dragons. It is unlikely but not impossible that they really did use manticore venom to kill the dragons. I suspect we will have to wait until we meet with the Martells to know for certain."

"I want you, Lord Kevan, to make sure that all of the city guards are properly trained to use the ballista on our walls. I want someone on each ballista at all times. I will not have our roof come crashing down on our heads because we were unprepared for dragons," Tommen ordered with increasing confidence.

"Of course, Your Grace," Uncle Kevan agreed without hesitation. "I will see to it at once."

"Good," Tommen affirmed as he straightened himself up in his chair. "In that case perhaps you can proceed to giving your report on-"

"Your Grace," Margaery asked cutting him off mid-sentence. "If I may, I have a question about the dragon killing ballista,"

Tommen flushed in embarrassment. He had forgotten to ask about the reason Margaery was on his council now in the first place. "Of course," Tommen readily agreed.

"How mobile are these ballistae?" She asked.

Pycelle frowned at the question. "What do you mean, Your Grace? They function as normal ballistae."

"I'm just a girl- not well versed in the ways of war but I was under the impression that the ballistae are typically constructed after you arrived at your destination."

"That would be correct, Your Grace," Uncle Kevan replied for Pycelle as he leaned forward in his seat wanting to see where she was going with this.

"So how exactly do we plan on defending our army while they are traveling? What is to stop the Targayens and their dragons from swooping down from the sky and burning us on the move? What is to stop them from destroying all of our supply trains? The legends say Dragons can fly and move much faster than any horse."

"Oh gods," Lord Merryweather murmured in horror.

"This- this is a very concerning concept." Uncle Kevan admitted begrudgingly. "We can't- we will have to move slowly and constantly have ballistae manned. Travel will be arduous and supply trains will need excessive protection to avoid sabotage."

"Or we don't fight the war on land," Lord Paxter Redwyne proposed. "We play defense and when we go on the offensive we do it by sea. We can mount ballistae to the decks of ships with ease and keep them manned at all times."

"Wooden ships burn," Lord Mace Tyrell pointed out. "It seems like it would be suicide to take on a dragon surrounded by wood."

"This is purely hypothetical since dragons are extinct but if there were dragons, then everything would burn," Pycelle pointed out. "Balerion the Black Dread melted stone and steel at Harrenhal. It won't matter what you are on, if you don't kill the dragon it will kill you."

"Do we have the navy to run all of our military operations by sea, Lord Redwyne?" Lord Orton Merryweather asked clearly skeptical if they did.

It was Uncle Kevan who answered his query. "No, but Euron Greyjoy does."

* * *

"Princess Arianne, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. Myrcella has told me much about you." Tommen said in greeting with a genuine smile in welcome. She really was beautiful. Olive skin with dark eyes and darker hair. A different kind of beauty to Margaery but an exotic and appealing one nevertheless. She wore a low cut orange shoulderless dress to accented her shapely curves and showed plenty of cleavage.

"To you as well, Your Grace," she replied- her voice taking a whimsical lilt as she curtsied. "It's unfortunate that we couldn't meet under more pleasant circumstances."

Tommen nodded. "Agreed." He sighed wearily. "Would you like something to drink before we discuss business?"

"A glass of Dornish Red would be agreeable," She said after a moment of pause.

A steward immediately fulfilled her request as they also brought out a goblet of sweet plum wine for him. It was just him and Arianne meeting today; Uncle Kevan has insisted on coming but Tommen had refused him. He wanted to prove he could do this himself- that he can be a good King. Uncle Kevan had clearly thought otherwise in the aftermath of him allowing Margaery to sit on his council. He didn't want to see those disappointed glowers any more. He had to prove he could do something important all on his own.

"I assume you called me here to discuss the Northern whore's bastard?" Arianne asked with her distaste clearly evident in her tone.

"Among other things, My Lady, but yes," Tommen said with a small smile.

She gave him one in return, "Please, you can call me Arianne, Your Grace," she replied. "We are family after all."

Tommen suddenly felt very warm. "I-it's only fair if you call me Tommen then."

She smiled prettily at him, "Tommen then."

Tommen smiled blankly for a moment before shaking himself and returning to the subject at hand. "I would like to offer you a place on my council, as the Master of Whispers if it pleases you." Tommen offered nervously. "If not then I would like a recommendation of a Dornish ally who could serve in that role."

Her radiant smile brightened further. "You would place a woman on your council? Surely, your council will protest at that."

They would and they had. "Why would they do that when my Queen already sits on my council?" He asked.

Tommen thought he saw her frown slightly but another brilliant smile soon replaced it. "In that case, I would be honored to serve as your Master of Whispers, Tommen." She said sultrily.

Tommen beamed at that before shaking his head to regain his bearings. Her accepting that position essentially guaranteed that the Dornish were on their side in this war. They might actually have a chance at defeating the Targaryen even with his dragons. "Now onto a more serious note; the Dornish killed Meraxes when Rhaenys tried to take Dorne. How? We know you used a blend of poisons but which ones and how can we recreate it?"

"Would you believe me if I said manticore venom?"

Tommen stared at her blankly. "That is what the histories say but it seems rather unlikely that it would be the case with how expensive it tends to be."

She laughed, it was a musical sound filled with joy. "It's a mix of different poisons exclusively used and made by House Martell. I will not reveal what it is composed of but I can get you some to coat the shafts of your ballistae with, _Tommen_." Her foot briefly rubbed against his shin and she leaned over the table giving him a generous view of her breasts.

"Th-that would be much appreciated, Arianne." Tommen stammered.

* * *

Tommen really didn't want to do this. His Uncle Kevan had insisted that he needed to. Grandmum Olenna had even agreed with him for once. Tommen had caved eventually but he didn't want to do this at all. The High Septon had imprisoned his wife and mother which later lead to the latter's death in a trial by combat. But the support of the High Septon was critical if he was to keep his throne. He offered them thousands of men able to fight because of his mother's foolishness and the hearts of the common folk. He could stop men from being swayed to the side of the Targaryens.

Besides, he was sure his wife hated this even more than him but she was willing to put on a fake smile and pretend for their continued happiness. It was the two of them against the world. If she had the strength to face her tormentor then so did he. He squeezed her hand tightly in a comforting gesture before locking elbows with her.

They strode through the now open double doors with their heads held high as they tried to portray themselves with grace. They strode down the aisle together to where the High Septon stood with a wide smile. Tommen was sure that he was trying to be welcoming but the High Septon looked more like a lecher than the kindly old man he wanted to be seen as.

"King Tommen and Queen Margaery, the monarchs chosen by the gods to rule for men," The High Sparrow intoned to the crowd as he wrapped an arm around their shoulders. There was deafening applause, cheering, and blessings screamed from the crowd.

Margaery trembled at the hug and Tommen squeezed her hand tightly in an attempt to comfort her. Thankfully, it was soon over as he let go of them.

"Today is the day of a new beginning! A day where the Faith and Crown work in a union for the good of the common man. Today is a day where this Kingdom gives itself in its entirety to the gods. Let God come first and rule over all things in the Seven Kingdoms! Let the Heretics to the North and to the East be silenced! The Seven Kingdoms belong to the Seven and their chosen King, Tommen of the House Baratheon!" The High Septon declared.

"We will not kneel to any other but the King chosen by the gods! We will not kneel to any incestuous Targaryens or usurping bastards! We will not kneel before the false Lord's Champion! It is the will of the Gods for King Tommen to rule over the Seven Kingdoms- no other. The Seven chose King Tommen to rule over us so rule over us he shall."

Tommen squeezed his wife's hand one last time for support before letting go and stepping forward to address the crowd. "The Crown and the Faith are the twin pillars on which the world rest. Together we will restore the Seven Kingdoms to glory. Together we will mold the Seven Kingdoms in the image of the Gods!" Tommen proclaimed.

It was complete bullshit. A mummery his Uncle Kevan had concocted. The relationship between the crown and the faith hadn't changed at all. The faith hadn't been given any more power as a result of this action. It was a mutual endorsement of the other, nothing more, nothing less. The High Septon needed him more than he needed the High Septon. The Targaryens would in all likelihood abolish the faith militant. Tommen didn't have the power to walks back on that but the Targaryens had dragons. The Targaryen bastard was allegedly brought back from the dead by the Lord of the Light. He would represent that God and in all likelihood just as Stannis did try to make that the gods of Westeros. All he had to do was maintain the status quo to have the faith.

Tommen gained support from the devout followers of the seven from this public declaration and the High Septon got the King's backing for the faith's actions. A promise to not interfere with their works as long as he and his family remained protected. All he had to do was make a few appearances in public where he pretended to be friends with the High Septon. It was free soldiers and support that Tommen needed to keep his throne and keep his family alive.

* * *

"Lord Greyjoy, thank you for heeding our invitation to the capital. We have urgent business we must discuss," Tommen said in greeting as he stared at the intimidating one-eyed man.

His one ice-cold blue eye locked onto Tommen's eyes as he sneered in reply. "King Euron," he corrected.

Euron Greyjoy was an odd-looking man, to say the least. He dressed in all black, even the armor under his trench coat was black as night. He wore a crown of driftwood with jagged points branching up nearly a foot high. There was black stones embedded in it to hold the whole thing together. His hair was long and untamed- a dark black like everything else he had and his beard was rugged. He wore an eye patch over his left eye and that might have been the least remarkable thing about the man in front of him. His lips were as blue as his eyes and his skin was deathly pale. He didn't look like a man at all but some foreign creature.

"The Seven Kingdoms does not recognize the sovereignty of the Iron Islands," Uncle Kevan was quick to remind the Pirate King.

King Euron snorted. "And I don't recognize that that boy is a King." Tommen flinched in reply.

His Kingsguard was quick to draw their swords at the slight. Ser Loras stepping to the front of the crowd. "You will pay his grace the proper respect, or you will be tried and executed for treason," he warned.

Euron Greyjoy only had one guard with him. A hulking beast of a man in a full set of non-descript silver-colored armor. He bore a great sword at his hip and was quick to unsheathe it, holding the greatsword with one hand as he stepped in front of Euron.

"I will do whatever the fuck I want and you can't do a thing about it," Euron taunted.

"And why is that?" Uncle Kevan asked truly confused. "The Kingsguard alone outnumbers your men seven to one. You will not win any conflict between us," he cautioned.

Euron laughed. "I like my chances," he shook his head. "Besides, you need me. Why else would you have called me here? You need my help to kill some dragons."

He wasn't wrong. They did need him. If he died, the Iron Islands would likely kneel to Yara Greyjoy who was already on the side of the Targaryens. They didn't have a choice to negotiate with someone else if negotiations fell through. They couldn't force Euron Greyjoy to kneel because they couldn't afford to make an enemy of him. With the other Kingdoms, neutrality was a fallback plan to give them some leverage in negotiations. That wasn't an option here. He could call himself a King and insult them as much as they wanted. They couldn't touch him and Euron was well aware of that fact and had no problem with rubbing it in. Tommen held up his hand. "At ease," he called out to his kings guard causing them to sheathe their swords.

Uncle Kevan frowned and tried to recover from the failed start to the meeting. "Please, we got off on the wrong foot. There is no need to resort to violence. Would you like some bread and wine while we discuss business?"

Euron snorted once more. "None of your bullshit guest right will protect you if I decided I want to kill you." He was just like Joffrey. A spoiled child who didn't care about having manners or human decency. He didn't care who suffered. He lived like a King because he was one, and everyone else lived to serve him.

Uncle Kevan sighed. "Very well, let us talk business then. We are asking for your-"

"You want my help to kill dragons. Bla bla bla bla. " He interrupted. "I know what you are going to say so let's cut out all the false pleasantries and needless small talk. You want my men and my ships I'm not inclined to give them to a toddler without getting something in return."

Tommen bristled at the insult but refrained from replying. "What is it that you want in return?" Uncle Kevan sighed wearily.

"I want the North." His reply was short and right to the point.

"Absolutely not," Uncle Kevan adamantly refused. "We are prepared to offer you gold, or better rights. Maybe even some small allotment of land."

"If I wanted Gold or a small bit of land, I'd claim it myself. I want the entire North and if you want my aid you're going to give it to me or I'll walk."

"You don't have as much leverage as you think you do Lord Greyjoy," Uncle Kevan scowled. "Do you think that you can defeat the Targaryens on your own?"

Euron laughed yet again. It was unnerving. "If I can't get you lot to agree to my terms, I'll go and help the Targaryens. They do not have to be my enemy. Who do you think Jon Targaryen will choose if it comes to me or my nephew? My nephew murdered Brandon Stark. I offer more men than my nephew does. I offer more ships than he does. I'd give him my nephew's head on a pike. If you don't give me the North then I'll join your enemies," he taunted. "You don't have a choice. I do."

"We are prepared to offer you the Rills, and no more," Uncle Kevan proposed.

"I'll pass. I want the entire North or you will see none of my men or ships." Euron replied dismissively.

"How about instead of the North we offer you all Seven Kingdoms. The firstborn son of King Tommen and Queen Margaery will marry your firstborn daughter." Kevan proposed. Tommen knew marriage alliances were a real possibility in peace negotiations. He was prepared to offer so beforehand but it was still unnerving to hear his unborn child sold to a barbarian.

Euron chuckled once more. "I don't give a fuck about some daughter of mine being Queen. That isn't the way of the Ironborn. Either make me King, give me the North or fuck off. The Ironborn claim titles for themselves not their children."

"We'll offer the Iron Islands sovereignty from the throne!" Uncle Kevan offered somewhat desperately. He took a deep breath to regain his composure. "You've fought multiple wars to call yourself Kings and you'll fight a hundred more against the Targaryens for that right. We are prepared to give it you in exchange for your aid in one more war."

Euron laughed a long boisterous laugh. "You can't give me what you don't have. Balon lost a war and his "permission" to wear a crown. He still called himself a King. The Iron Islanders still called him their King. We still lived by our own rules and ignored the rules your King forced us to follow. If it gets your rocks off to pretend you are King of the Iron Islands, then by all means pretend. I won't give you something for something I already have. I want the North and you are going to give it to me. I will have freedom to do whatever the fuck I want to it and with it. If I want to take their women as my salt wives, you won't stop me. If I want to sell their people into slavery, you won't stop me. If I want to burn all of their houses to the ground you will not interfere. It will be mine to do with as I please."

"You can not-," Uncle Kevan protested.

"I'm tired of hearing you yap." Euron interrupted. "I'm talking to the boy King, not his bitch. Can he make a decision without his dog deciding for him?"

Tommen froze even as he held up his hand to gesture for Kevan to be silent and let him decide. Which was more valuable to him? Half his kingdom or more than doubling his Navy? The North was the largest of the seven Kingdoms and he was being asked to give it away for boats and men. The price was absurd.

It was also the only offer he was going to get. There was no plan B if this failed. The crown was in debt, they couldn't afford to hire Sellswords and the Iron Bank had denied their request for a loan not wanting to involve themselves in a war they were likely to lose and never see their loans repaid. They had their Navy's but they weren't enough to conduct an entire war by sea. They didn't have thousands of men experienced in fighting on a boat. The Iron Islands gave them a real chance to win this war. They had almost no chance without them.

The price was exorbitant but it wasn't when they could afford to refuse. If they killed Euron they lost the entire Iron Fleet and their enemy would gain it. If they simply rejected him they lost all of his ships even if they had a chance of gaining Yara Greyjoy's much smaller armada to the Targaryens. Fighting against that naval power by sea would be nigh impossible. If they rejected his offer they guaranteed their own defeat. He guaranteed the death of Margaery and Myrcella. There was no other solution but to accept Euron's offer.

It didn't matter if he hated Euron or wanted to see him dead. It didn't matter if he had a Kingdom after this war. He wasn't fighting for his throne but his life. For the life of Myrcella and the life of Margaery. He was fighting for his future children to have a future. He wouldn't let some Targaryen destroy the life he had. He wouldn't let him kill his wife or rape his sister. He might not care for his throne but he cared for his family and that was why he was fighting. Nothing else mattered but their lives.

"Very well, King Euron. I'll accept your offer. The North is yours to do as you wish with once the war is won. The crown will offer you no aid in claiming it, of course. It is your own duty to subdue and rule your people." Tommen agreed hesitantly.

Euron grinned like a shark. "Then let's kill some dragons."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tommen flings himself out of a window canonically. That says a lot of negative things about his sense of self worth and I'm not going to gloss over that. He will hate himself at times and teeter on that edge as he suffers borderline full-blown depression. His mental state is not at all perfect. I won't write him as the completely oblivious naive fool he is canonically but he won't be a good leader and he will have some mental health issues. He's not going to be so incompetent that people flock to the side of Jon and Daenerys because they have to be better than Tommen. It won't just be a choice between the lesser of two evils.
> 
> Ser Kevan is trying to get Tommen to be independent because he is aware that the Tyrells control the entire council right now. He wants to retain power and control for the Lannisters which he can't have right now so giving it to Tommen is the next best thing. He knows Tommen trusts him and values his opinion especially when he hints at his uncle being proud of following his guiding hand. He won't be able to control him but he can stop him from being controlled against Kevan's agenda.
> 
> The idea behind Arianne Martell being on the council is trifold. I needed some way to keep her in King's Landing for the plot and her being near her closest ally in the war efforts is beneficial. The council is already dominated by the Reach and he needs representation from more than just two Kingdoms. Again, turning to the Dornish who are most likely going to side with the family they just married into and who they have a claim to the throne through Myrcella over the bastard of Elia's shame (From their perspective) and the Mad King's daughter. Also a part of it is that I want Tommen to give women some power so it's not where everyone chooses Jon and Daenerys by default simply because they are better than Tommen. They won't have every woman on their bandwagon when Tommen gives some women high positions of power. Tommen is the moderate of woman rights whereas Jonerys is the extreme end of the spectrum and equality as a whole.
> 
> I'm trying to stay true to Tommen's naivety in cannon as well as how easily he is manipulated without making him a weak pushover. He knows that he can't trust Margaery and that she isn't the perfect wife he wants to believe her to be but he still finds himself leaning on her because she cares for him and that's enough. He thinks he's in love with her and that is what matters most to him. Margaery is aware of his weaknesses and isn't afraid to use sexual pleasure to get what she wants. Yes the lemon sucks, it's my first one ever and they'll have a very minimal role in the story but sex is something that can be used to further the plot so it will pop up somewhat frequently.
> 
> The wooden ships burn point that people make is stupid. Drogon literally renders men in full armor into naught but ashes in seconds in the battle of Highgarden. Ships are more pivotal then ever in a war when siege weapons and mobility have to be prioritized. A boat lets you mount your scorpions above the ground to put the dragons closer, it gives mobility and easy accessibility. Only one side being able to instantly go across the Kingdom on a dragon that flies at least five times the speed of a horse and can ignore the roads is a huge advantage for the Targaryens. Travel speed of both information and firepower to set up ambushes matters just as much as the dragons deadly flames. In transit, an army is at it's most vulnerable and if Tommen doesn't properly prepare for them to do just that they can and they will lose immediately.
> 
> Euron was so much fun to write. He obviously can't directly become King of the Seven Kingdoms with a King already on the throne instead of Cersei to marry so he settles for demanding the largest kingdom. He's selfish and has his own motivations beyond what he shares but it does make more sense to ally with them then the breaker of chains even if he could go to them if he can't find a deal with Tommen. He has the leverage in their negotiations, is perfectly aware of that and doesn't hesitate to use it all to his advantage. There is no dragonbinder in this but Euron does have a pivotal part to play.
> 
> Next chapter is another Jon one as we see him trying to actually rule the right way and prepare for the trip to the Riverlands.


End file.
